


As the Moon Rises

by vir_tanadahl



Series: The Falling of the Dread Wolf [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-20
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-11-16 09:12:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11250075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vir_tanadahl/pseuds/vir_tanadahl
Summary: Isera Lavellan has been sent to her twin brother Banreas Lavellan, the Inquisitor, at the urging of their mother with the command of assisting him. Together they fight against one who would seek to destroy the world and learn more about their own mysterious family history.Solas x F!Lavellan.





	1. Chapter 1

She arrived with two Rivaini escorts. They were old friends of her mother and only spoke broken King’s language. The language barrier was not a problem in the small village in Rivain. However, two humans and the semblance of a blind elven girl traveling across Thedas made for an odd site. 

Isera hadn’t seen her brother for more than three years. Even then, the last visit was a surprise. Isera and her mother had stumbled upon the Lavellan camp site in the Free Marches on their way back to Rivain. Isera spent time with the Keeper and her Aunt, as Banreas was out on a hunt. He was harder than before, rougher around the edges.

The twins were separated since they were six after Isera began showing magical abilities at an extremely young age. It was too dangerous to have another mage in the clan. It was not uncommon for Dalish to separate families among other Clans. Usually, the separation was a result of a marriage between two clans. It was also common that the Dalish would force out young, newly discovered mages into the wild with little assistance. Eludysia, the twin’s mother, instructed to her First that she will be leaving with Isera. Thus, First Istimaethoriel of Lavellan became the Keeper. Banreas was left screaming behind as his mother left.

 At first, Eludysia sought another Dalish clan. But it was clear that a mage child with a lack of training would not be accepted. Fortunately, Eludysia was a mage and a powerful one with years of teaching others about the dangers of magic. Together, mother and daughter traveled northeast to Rivain, where magic was taught and treated differently than the South.

The small band approach Skyhold, clutching their cloaks closer to their body for warmth. The harsh wind sent chills down Isera’s spine. Skyhold, even from afar, was a majestic fortress. For Isera it glowed with centuries-old magic.

_“We are close.”_ Celso, the older one of the escorts said in Rivaini.

There was a tightness in Isera’s belly that made it hard to breathe. She was nervous. Did her brother get the letter from their mother? Would he welcome her? What does he think of his family after years of separation?

Isera could only guess. She does not like the unknown, but here she is standing on the edge of the abyss of something greater than herself. The only question she could answer was if she was willing to jump.

 

\----

 

Celso left her with his companion on the edge of the Great Hall. Lorenzo, who was closer to her age, began instructing her on what her mother wanted her to do. Lorenzo smiled, appearing as though he was flirting with her as he continued his speech in Rivaini. “ _Now, your brother is aware that you can see. Don’t let others know. Seek out their intentions. You know what to do.”_

Isera nodded without a word. She did know what to do. The two watched as Celso attempted to explain to one of the Inquisition guards, in broken tongue, that the Inquisitor’s sister had arrived.

Fifteen minutes later and much bickering, Celso signaled Lorenzo to bring Isera towards the back of the hall. He muttered that the Inquisitor was in a war meeting and would be out shortly.

Unbeknownst to the nobles who sat in the hall, Isera was quietly watching them. It was clear that the nobility did not know what to make of her.

_She’s blind._

_I heard she is the sister of the Inquisitor._

_Of course, the greedy elves would send her to him. He’d probably has to send gold back to them for her care._

_I’m surprised she has lived this long._

Lorenzo pushes her behind him, blocking the view of the nobles. _“We should have kept such a gem hidden in Rivain,”_ he whispers into her ear before giving a light peck on her cheek. 

_“Careful, Lorenzo. One might think you fancy me.”_ Isera muttered back, turning her head away.

The door to the chamber of war room swung open, reveling her brother and his advisors.  The one with the Antivan accent was distressed, “Mistress Lavellan. I am terribly sorry, we thought you would be arriving tomorrow. Nonetheless, we will have our servants prepare a room and meal for you.”

“Josie, it’s fine,” her brother stated, as he smiled. He quickly moved in for a hug. Isera’s body tensed at the contact.

“Oh, we will arrange for someone to guide you around Skyhold. We do not want to limit you to one room, of course. Stairs and all.” Josie continued, turning back to her office to make arrangements.

“Isera,” her brother’s voice pulled her from her inner mind. “This is Commander Cullen and Sister Leliana. They have been my council through this process.”

Isera’s eyes flit up, glancing only briefly at their faces. She has a role to play, and she cannot forget it. “Hello,” Isera answered.

The Commander and Sister bow slightly. “It is nice to meet you, Isera. Banreas has shared a lot about you.” Leliana says as she extends her hand. _Orlesian_.

“Oh!” Leliana gasps in surprise and embarrassment, pulling her hand back in the realization of her error.

Banreas and Cullen chuckled at the mistake.

“It’s a pleasure,” Cullen murmurs, his voice betraying his nervousness. _Ferelden_. Banreas, realizing both are unsure of how to interact with his seemingly blind sister, takes over.

Banreas reaches for her arm. “I’m sure you are tired, sister. Let me show you to my room until yours is ready” He tells her as he nods towards his advisors dismissing them. He looks at the two men meet who escorted her here. “Thank you for delivering my sister.”

Celso and Lorenzo nod in apparent understanding. Celso takes one last look at Isera before the two depart from the Great Hall.

Isera hums loudly. “So, an Orelsian, a Fereldan, and an Antivan walk into a bar?” She jokes as she places her free hand on her brother’s arm. Banreas chuckles as he ushers her through the door, shutting it behind him. Once the door is closed, Banreas releases his grip on his sister. He silently directs her up the stairs. The two walk together and relative silence until they reach the threshold of his quarters.

“What are you doing here, sister?” Banreas demands as he shuts the door.

Isera wanders freely in the room looking around. “Mother sent me. She’s worried.”

Banreas lets out a frustrated sigh. “So she sent you?” His words sound bitter, like the taste of tea long since stale.

“You can use me, as she did. Your companions don’t know of my ability. There are secrets even within the Inquisition, brother.” Isera responded. “I am just as strong as she.” Isera’s ability to connect to the Fade and perform spells were at rank with their mother.

“I have a spymaster and the Gods know how many agents” Banreas stresses as he sits down on the sectional.

“Then, pray tell brother, who spies on her?” Isera replies with a grin, her voice teasing him. Her face falls, and she makes her way to him. “Mother did not share why she wanted me here. But I did as she requested. If you do not want me here, I will leave.” Her voice is serious.

“I can’t do that.” His reply is short and hot. 

“You are the Inquisitor, the Herald of Andraste. You can, if you so choose.”

When Banreas did not reply, Isera continued.

“I am a skilled healer, Ban. Leave me here to tend to the needs of the Inquisition soldiers. Or you can take me with you when you travel to villages and cities and I can care for those who are in need. I do not know why mother sent me here. It is clear that she wanted me to be near you, however.” 

Banreas sighed as he stood in front of his sister. “Fine. You can come along when we travel. When you are in Skyhold, you will tend to the sick. There is a tower near the Commander’s office that we will begin to rebuild. The top floor will be your room and the lower floor will be where you treat people.”

Banreas crossed his arms. “Until then, do not let the Inquisition know that you can see. We might as well make use of that ability—or inability.”


	2. Chapter 2

The dwarf is from Kirkwall. The human warrior is from Nevarra. The human mage is from Tevinter, and the other human mage is from Orlais. The elven mage is from…somewhere north? The elven archer is from Ferelden. The qunari is from Par Vollen. The other human warrior is from somewhere in the Free Marches. The human dualist is…not human?

Banreas had walked Isera around Skyhold introducing her to his companions. She made mental notes of everyone she met. The dwarf is a storyteller. He described to her the beauty of Skyhold to make her feel included. The human mage from Orlais made her lack of interest clear. Smiles and pleasantries were all she offered. The human mage from Tevinter attempted to wow her with his dashing charm. He said it would be better if she could see that he is well dressed and handsome.

The elven mage is polite but distant and guarded. The qunari is loud, as is the elven archer. They get along well. The human warrior from the Free Marches enjoys the elven archer—they make dirty jokes together.

The human dualist is not human, but what? Isera cannot figure it out, but she cannot ask either. Not right now.

“And that is everyone who travels with me. You met my advisors yesterday.” Banreas states as they stop along the ramparts. “And this is where you will be staying once it is rebuilt.” Banreas positions her towards the tower.

Isera keeps her eyes cast down as she watchs the unknowing workers. They seem unaware of the presence of her brother. They are making quick work of repairing the holes and gaps in the stoned face walls.

“Ser!” a worker who notices them calls and rushes to approach Banreas. 

“Yes, what is it?”

“Ser, your orders were to rebuild this tower into an infirmary and living quarters. I was also informed that your sister is a skilled healer and potion maker. Would you like us to install a small garden on the top terrace? The men and I thought it would be easier for Mistress Lavellan to access.”

Banreas straightens up at the idea. “I think that would be practical. Sister, would you agree?” He asks.

“I do. I brought a collection of seeds on the journey, and it would be more convenient if the plants were nearby.” The idea of having a garden above her excited Isera. Her body vibrates with excitement. The art of gardening of herbs and flowers was something few could master.

“Good. We should be finished by the end of this week, ser.” The worker bows, bringing his arm to his chest before departing back to the work site.

“Until then, you can stay in my room. We have a lot to catch up on.” Banreas leads her to the Commander’s office. “Commander.” Banreas nods. “You want to see me?”

“Inquisitor, yes. Ah.” The Commander hesitates. “Perhaps we should speak in private.”

Isera watches as Banreas struggles to answer. It is clear that he feels conflicted over leaving her alone to attend to his duties.

“I can wait outside.” Isera answers for him, pulling her arm away. She is still in the doorway. This made it easier to “blindly” find her way outside.

“Isera…” Banreas grabs her hand.

 “Banreas. I’m blind, not a child.” Isera snaps, pulling her hand away.

The Commander snorts. Banreas sighs, “Well, don’t fall off the rampart.”

“No promises.” Isera retorts as she uses the wall to guide herself out. The door shuts with a loud cling. She leans against the angle of the stonewall that overlooks the tavern. The sun feels warm on her skin against the chilled air around her. It is almost peaceful here. She could feel the vibrations in the stone of the old magic long since forgotten by man.

Isera wonders just how a magnificent castle such as this was lost to time, yet found when disaster was nipping at the heels of the rag-tag Inquisition.  One could say it was serendipitous almost.

“Excuse me?” A nervous voice from behind her calls.

 _The human dualist that’s not human…what was his name?_ Isera turns to face where she hears his voice. 

“Hello?”

 She watches as he flinches nervously with something in his arms. _A staff?_ Isera holds her breath, fear shocking her lungs. Did he know? How could he?

The elven mage quickly approaches. “Cole, she cannot see, remember?” He tells the human who’s not human. Cole glances around. “Right. Please hold out your hands.” He instructs her.

“I made this. It’ll help.” Cole says as he places the staff into the palms of her hands.

 _Ah, a guiding stick._ Isera wraps her hands around the staff, feeling the smoothness of the wood that is rough in some places.

“Cole likes to help others. It’s in his nature.” The elven mage says, patting Cole on the back.

“That is very thoughtful of you, Cole” Isera answers.

Cole shakes his head. “It was Solas’s idea” He replies quickly, brushing the invisible dirt off his clothing. _Solas._

Solas shifts slightly, apparently not expecting the shared ownership of the gift. Before he is able to defend the declaration, Cole continues. “It was. I just helped.” He nods as he began to back away. “I just helped. You’re happier now."

The two watch as Cole rushes away.

The silence fills the space. Isera watches, her head tilled down, as Solas stares at her. He is assessing her. He made little effort to mask his facial expressions. They are alone, and he is not aware that she could, in fact, see him.

“You are Dalish, are you not?”

The question catches Isera off guard. “Why?” she asks incredulously.

He appears to sense the oddness of his question. “My apologies. You are related to the Inquisitor who declares his Dalish heritage. His face is marked with the vallaslin, while yours is not. I was merely curious.”

Isera snorts. “Says the elf. Are you Dalish?” She watches as he bristles at the twist of his inquiry being deflected onto himself. His eyes narrow in suspicion. “How do you know I’m elven?”

“Banreas described the physical appearance of his companions to me.” The lie is sweet, rolling off her tongue. Solas continues to stare her down.

 “You met many of his companions, yet you recognized who I was?” He presses.

“Of course. He explicitly stated that you were not fond of Dalish and how you two got into a heated argument. He called you…what was it… _an arrogant asshole_ ” She said the last words in Elvish. She was testing him, baiting him. And he fell for it.

“ _I have seen what the Dalish falsely claim. They are children, grasping desperately to a past that is untrue.”_ His Elvish is impeccable, yet different. Some of the words were similar, and his accent was different. Where was he from?

“Why, where you there?” Isera retorts, twirling the walking stick in one of her hands.

His body tenses at the statement.  _Annoyance?_

“I have visited places long since forgotten by this world. I have been shown part of history that many no longer remember. I tried to share this with the Dalish, and they refused.” His arms are crossed, his back stiff as a board.

“Right, you’re a _somniar_. A fade-walker.” Isera is almost impressed with that he has that ability. She has tried for years with little success outside of controlling her own dreams. But, she won't let him know this. 

“I am.” His voice is harsh. Isera concludes that he is annoyed that she accused him of being a know it all.

“I’ve met one before. A halfling fleeing to Tevinter for training.” Isera turns to lean against the wall again. “I hope he made it.”

She waits for him to approach her. She suspects that he was not expecting a shift in topics.

“Halfling?” 

“Half-human, half-elf. His mother was Dalish. He needed help to be awoken from his sleep. The Dalish tried to teach him to control it, but we rarely see fade-walkers in the clans. They usually die young. It’s more common northward.”

Isera makes a noise half between a hum and a sigh. “Anyway, of course, the Dalish did not want to hear. It is rude to walk into a clan, as stranger nonetheless, to tell them that their history is wrong. That you, what the Dalish would call a flat ear, know all. Like you’re some God.”

She watches as his face contorted in disgust. “I never claimed—“

“How do you convince someone the sky is not blue, I wonder?” She hums, tapping her chin. The door leading to the Commander’s office swings open and Banreas steps out staring at the two. The tension is thick, despite Isera’s grin. “Banreas, pray tell that is you?” Her voice sounds sweeter than it should. 

“What were you two talking about?” Banreas questions as he eyes them carefully. He is no fool to the provocation of his sister's antics. 

 “Solas admitted he needs to work on his people skills. He’s rusty from his lonesome travels.” Isera answers quickly, reaching for her brother.

“I did not!” Solas gasps in offense, his arms pulled behind his back.

“Look, he even had help crafting a walking stick for me, brother. Such kindness can only be seen in someone with improving social skills.”

Isera watches as her brother slowly looks between the two of them, assessing the situation and deciding if he should engage the banter. “That is a kind gesture.” He slowly says.

She watches from the corner of her eye as Solas glowers with annoyance. His shoulders are tightly pulled back, his head is titled slightly back and he is frowning. Isera is done egging him on for today.

“I’m quite tired, brother. Can you please escort me to your room?” Isera requests and pulls gently on her brother’s arm. Banreas nods, linking arms with his sister and guides her away. “Good day, Solas,” Isera says, teasingly, as they walk by. Solas does not respond.


	3. Chapter 3

The walking stick assists her greatly as she begins to navigate Skyhold’s hall without her brother’s assistance or so she leads people to believe. People have rushed out of her way and created paths for her to travel. As far as Isera knows, her quarters would be finished by this afternoon.

Banreas had begun to share with her the supposed secrets of the Inquisition. Most of the information was mundane. Other things stood out. For example, Banreas claimed that he was sent through time when he when to negotiate with the Rebel Mages in Redcliffe.

The magister in question of such thing was studying from the bars of his cold cell. The mage from Tevinter, Dorian, discussed at length the theory of such magic. At first, Dorian was reluctant to share what occurred. Only the inner circle of the Inquisition knew what had truly occurred.

 _Mother would find this interesting._ Isera thinks to herself as Dorian continues to talk.

“But, alas, as much as I enjoy talking about the research Alexius and I did, I must get going. Let’s continue this another time.” Dorian said.

“Of course, thank you for indulging me.” Isera answered, as she turns to head back down the stairs of the atrium. As she descends the stairs the smell of fresh paint filled her nostrils. Isera is momentarily distracted as rounds the corner of the stairs, tripping over something left carelessly at the bottom of the stairs. 

Her body hits the stone floor with a loud crash.

“You should be more—“

Isera turned towards Solas as he quickly closes his mouth. He gently places his paintbrush down as he makes his way over to her. He sighs loudly as he reaches down to help her. “ _I_ should have been more thoughtful in the placement of the scaffolding.”

“It’s fine.” Isera responds, allowing him to assist her in standing. “Next time I’ll watch where I am going.” The words come out fast. A mistake. A moment of silence fills the air as they try to process what she said.

“Are you…making a joke?” Solas questions, still holding onto her arms. There is a mixture of confusion and discomfort in voice.

“Clearly, a poor attempt at one if you have to ask.” Isera quips. There is a warm, yet slippery product smeared crossed her hand. “Is that blood or paint? I smelt paint before I fell.” She stares at him in annoyance. 

“Paint.” He states, pulling her towards him. “Allow me to assist.” He tells her as he gently pushes her down into the seat in the middle of the room.

Isera finally stares down at her hands. Her ability let’s her see certain things, but others times not. For example, she knows, for the most part, how to read but is unable to unless the ink is enchanted. The Veil reacts to magical properties much like how Veil Fire reacts to the hidden runes and enchantments, thus allowing her to see the writing.

 _Red._ Her hands are red. She hasn’t seen color since she manifested her magic. Isera rubs her hands together the color sparkling as she flexes her fingers. _Who enchants paint? Why can I see it_? She thinks. She wants to cry. She forgot how vibrant colors are. 

Isera takes a deep breath as she pushing the feelings down.

“I assure you it is paint on your hands. You may have bruising, but you did not break skin.”

He pulls on her right hand and began to clean it with a warm, wet towel. She watches as the enchanted red paint is removed from her skin.

“Thank you.” She whispers.

“Ser,” A young recruit approaches them. “The Inquisitor is requesting your assistance for a trip to Crestwood. Departure time is in one hour.”

“The Inquisitor request your attendance, as well, Mistress Lavellan. The reports say that Crestwood has been under siege by the undead and may need the assistance of a healer. The Inquisitor asks that you meet him in his quarters”

“Of course.” Isera answers, abruptly standing up and bumping into Solas. “Oh, sorry.” She mutters as she makes her way around him. “You’re walking stick, Mistress.” The loyal guardsmen rushes to hand her the object.

“Of course, right.” Her face is hot from embarrassment and the wonder of the enchanted paint. She moves too quickly as she leave the area. When she arrives to Banrea’s quarters she throws herself onto the nearby couch. Her brother comes in moments later.

“Isera, I ordered the gardener to collect some herbs, jar, cloth, and already made potions and poultices before head out.” His focus is on a document as he walks to his desk. “Found out anything about Skyhold’s secrets?” 

She recalls the past few days in Skyhold. Most information was ordinary, but potentially useful if one needed to be blackmailed. Alas, that was not her area of interest. “The servants are oddly nervous.” It was the only thing that she noticed.

“Whose?”

Isera shrugs. “Everyone’s. It may have been me, though. My apparent blindness makes other uncomfortable.” She pauses for a moment. “Also, tell your Spymaster to stop having her agents follow me around.”

Banreas chuckles. “Because you _saw_ someone following you?”

“Yes—wait— _shit_.” Isera grumbles. “Never mind.”

“That’s what I thought!” Banreas proudly replies having caught his sister falling out of character. He grabs a few items from his desk before heading out. “Come on, sister. Crestwood awaits!”

\--- 

Banreas chose to stop the undead and close the breach before continuing on to meet the Grey Warden and the Champion of Kirkwall. He ordered her to say in the village. The villagers, at first, were uncomfortable receiving help from a blind elf. Banreas vouched that she was a good healer and that she could help. So they let her.

Banreas, Solas, Cassandra, and Varric all had departed to deal with the larger problem—the breach under the water.

Fortunately, Isera discovers most of the injuries were minor. This allows Isera more time to keep her magical abilities hidden. After the last patient leaves, the older man, Gauld, sit near her. “You really know what you’re doin’” he harrumphs.

“I certainly hope so.” Isera answers. She begins putting away the tonics and rewrapping the clean cloth. Gauld continues to stare at her. “Have you always been blind?”

“No.” She answers.

She hears him take a deep breath for another question when he suddenly shouts in surprise and rushes towards the front door. The whole village was howling with delight. 

_The sun is out!_

_It’s not raining!_

_Thank the Maker!_

_The undead have stopped attacking us!_

Isera calmly walks out of the hut watching the villagers celebrate and looks up as the clouds begin to part faster than any natural cause

When her brother and his companions arrive, they are greeted with a thunderous applause. Her brother retrieves her and they are on their way towards a cave farther past the small village.

\---

Isera waits outside of the cave for the group to return. She hates caves and tunnels. Her fear was that she would be buried alive if there was a cave in. But the trip was necessary. The Grey Warden’s had disappeared after the Conclave. This was suspicious enough for the Inquisition to begin a search for them. Varric had a contact, who had a contact, who probably has another contact. 

This is the reason why they were a few miles outside of the small village, talking to a rogue Grey Warden, in a recently vacant smuggler’s cave. Isera sighs out of boredom as she pets the horses. 

The chatter inside of the cave isn’t what catches her eye. It is the sound of clanging metal. She looks up. It’s the humanoid forms with jagged crystals that bleed dark magic heading her way that does. Red Templars.

 _Thirty? Forty? More?_ She thinks, far too many for the small company. The horses they rode begin sensing the danger as they attempt to rear. The Red Templars were too close for an easy escape without a fight.

“Shit,” Isera mutters as she rushes to free the horses. Once the reins are free the horses bolt away from the Red Templars and their riders.

Isera rushes inside the cave, stumbling over loose rock and deep mushroom. The nugs squeal loudly in fear. She sees the closed door up ahead and uses her body to thrust it open.

The Grey Warden quickly draws his sword at the sight of her. He goes to shout something but Isera moved first.

She lets loose a blast of energy that throws the Grey Warden into the side of the cavern wall. His sword flies from him hand on impact and falls with a loud cling. “Put that away before you hurt yourself.” Isera scoffs. She hadn’t mean to use her magic. But she saw the end of a sword and panicked.

_Isera!?_

_She’s a mage?!_

_“_ We have to go! There’s a legion of Red Templars outside of this cave” Isera shouts as she jogs farther back into the cave. There has to be a hidden exit. All good smugglers create a hidden exit. 

 _She’s blind how could she know that_?

_We’re trapped. We need to fight!_

“Banreas!” Isera yells as she presses her hands against the stone sending small blasts of energy into the mineral searching for a weak spot. Banreas seems realizes the danger they are in.

“Cassandra, Stroud! Hold the door. Block the Templars from coming in! Isera, what are you looking for?” Banreas pulls his bow off of his back and begins preparing for the worst.

Isera turns to head toward the other side of the cave. “Any good smuggling has a hidden exit.” She yells as she begins sending pulses of magic again. The sound of the Red Templar boots and clinking armor fill the air. They are pounding on the door. Solas casts a spell to freeze the door shut. The Red Templars are undeterred from the obstacle. 

“How do you even know that?” Banreas shouts as he rushes towards her.

“Found it!” Isera screams as she steps back. She focuses her energy on pulling the rocks away rather than blowing it up. A space opens up. “Banreas, go!” she shouts. It is going to be tight. Only one person can go through the crevice of rocks at a time.

Without flinching, Banreas dashes through as he yells at the others to follow. Stroud, Cassandra, Varric and Solas awkwardly dash and stumble through. Stroud and Cassandra both struggle due to their plated armor. It scraps against the rock as they push through. Varric and Solas have it easier with the lack of plating. The sound of scraping metal gets louder as Isera slithers through the opening.

The wall of ice shatters as Isera’s magic pulls the rocks tightly back into place as she forces her way out into the wild. The Red Templars do not see her exit.


	4. Chapter 4

The horses had made their back to Caer Bronach. Banreas orders scouts in search of the Red Templars to prevent an attack on the village before they rushed back to Skyhold to plan an attack on the oldest Grey Warden fortress, Adamant. When Banreas had traveled to the future, they saw a demon army overtaking Orlais and killing the Empress. It is imperative that the Inquisition gets to Empress Celene before Corypheus sends his agents to end her life.

Almost everyone is upset that she and Banreas intentionally hid her abilities. Broken trust they called it.

As the troops are packing to complete a forced march on the Adamant Fortress, Cassandra pulls her aside. “Why did you lie?” she demands. Cassandra unrelentingly stares her down. The seeker is demanding the truth.

“I didn’t. Not really.” Isera shrugs as she assesses her new staff that Banreas had crafted for her.

“You lied by omission. How are we supposed to trust you?” Cassandra asks. According to her brother, Cassandra is a Seeker of Truth. But the truth of what? The welded eyeball on her armor invokes the sense of always being watched. 

Isera rolls her eyes and scoffs. “How was I supposed to trust you? You have an elven man, a Dalish nonetheless, who has adamantly shared that he believes in Dalish gods, as the head of an organization from the Chantry. You call him the Herald of Andraste, despite his own declarations. And I am an apostate mage from the “heathen land” of Rivain. The Chantry I know would have me dead as a maleficarum or turn me into a Tranquil.” The words are hot and harsh out of her mouth. Isera refuses to break her stare with the Seeker.

“You all assumed I was incompetent. The Herald’s _poor_ blind sister. I just played the part the Inquisition wanted.” Isera is louder than she intends to be. The inner circle of the Inquisition halts their packing to stare at the two.

“Then you were a sheep in wolf’s clothing? What were you expecting to find?” Cassandra presses. Knowingly or unknowingly, Cassandra had her sword hand on her weapon.

Isera begins laughing. “Anything to that would seek harm to my brother, of course.” As the tension rises, Banreas walks in on their argument and quickly steps in between them. “That is enough.” He orders his voice is hard and demanding.

“Cassandra, I was aware of what she was doing. She was not and is not here to bring harm to the Inquisition. If I were concerned that she would attempt to impede our goals, I would have informed the advisors.” His voice is commanding. He does not want to be questioned on this matter.

“ _Da’fen_ ” Banreas snaps at Isera.

Isera lets out a loud, guttural noise of displeasure. “Do not call me that, brother!” She starts walking away before he can express his disapproval of her. Her body feels hot with anger. Banreas does not chase after her and begins talking to Cassandra. Varric starts laughing at her actions elbowing Solas to look as well.

“Da’fen?” Varric continues to laugh the word is awkward on his tongue. “What does that mean?” he calls her over.

“Little Wolf” Isera and Solas answer together. They stare at each other for a moment unsure of how to proceed. 

Isera takes a deep breath before continuing. “I may have, accidentally blew up a statue of Fen’Harel when my magic first manifested. The some of the clan thought it was hilarious and other thought it an omen.” Isera explains with exaggerated tones.

Varric chuckles again. “You blew up who’s statue?” he asks.

Solas opens his mouth to answer, but Isera cuts him off. “Fen’Harel. Our god of tricksters in Elven lore. He supposedly locked away our Gods because he thought it was funny. Apparently, Dalish also thinks he likes to curse little Dalish children.” Her voice is almost condescending as she giggles over the idea.

Varric lets out a bellowing laugh.

“A God who likes to curse children?” Solas sounds almost offended.

Isera shrugs. “I’m sure the Lord of Tricksters has many better things to do than making a small Dalish girl blind from using her magic by blowing up one of his statues. But, it makes a convenient story to ward off children away from the old statues.”

“And you do not think he did that?” Solas continues. His voice is guarded again.

Isera shakes her head. The idea of it is absurd. “No. When I was six, of course, I did. The big bad wolf is always the source of Dalish problems or have you not paid attention to Dalish lore?”

He ignores her comment. They are both aware that he does. “Do you believe in the Elven Gods?” Solas asks, his head tilted to the side. Apparently, today is the day of religious thinking.

“No.”

Varric nods. “Well, do you believe in the Chant of Light and the Maker?” he asks. They both stare at her awaiting her response.

Isera looks around. No one else is paying attention to them. “No.” Her voice cracks a little.

“Then what do you believe?” Varric continues. He does not appear to be aware that the line of questioning makes her uncomfortable. 

Isera takes a deep breath. “Right, religious beliefs are important in the South.” She mutters.

“Well, I believe in nothing?” Isera begins to explain. “The Seers in Rivain believe in nature and the natural order of the world. I guess I believe in that. In people. History just repeats itself, no?” Her voice is stressed as she rushes to answer. She’s unconformable. “Besides, what the point of Gods, whichever religion, when they sit tucked away watching the world burn?”

Isera locks her staff into place on her back. It is almost time to begin the forced march.

“You don’t think the Maker or whatever, willed the Inquisition? Or saved your brother?” Varric asks as he places Bianca on his back.

“From my understanding, the Inquisition was established after the Cassandra yanked a book out of her arse that was signed by the freshly dead Divine and said, “We are starting this” and ta-da. If we are to stop a would-be God, why wouldn’t a real god come and do the fighting instead? There would be a lot of less dead people in the end.”

Varric and Solas stare silently at her. Varric’s mouth is opened slightly at the rush of information Isera had shared. “All right, then.” He mutters and rubs the back of his neck before turning and walking towards his mount. 

“Tell me again, how do you convince someone the sky is not blue?” Solas’s question is sarcastic. He is smug with that she fell into the same trap he did. 

The soldiers begin moving. The forced march is starting.

Isera is unaffected by his comment. “Rain check on the philosophical discussion, Solas.” She grins and winks at him before jogging towards her horse.

She can feel him watching her has she mounts her horse. As she trots past him, they stare at each other. She is unable to read his facial expression. She finds him peculiar nonetheless. 

\---

They are rushing after the Magister and the Grey Warden Commander. The dragon in the sky, apparently a servant to Corypheus is impeding their efforts. Isera barely had time to invoke a wall of ice that laid over Solas’s magical barrier to protect them from the blast of dark magic.

Her lungs hurt. Her legs are already aching. They are running and skidding to stops with only a sliver of time to react to an attack. 

Finally, they come across the bridge. The Warden Commander is deflecting the attacks of the magister as she rushes to approach. The Inquisition team follows suit, but the chaos endures. The dragon attacks and sends the bridge into a collapse. 

They are falling and then suddenly they aren’t. 

Isera is on her knees. She can hear the sounds of the Inquisition team, but she can’t breathe. Her legs refused to move. Her mind is screaming to get up but she can’t. Someone grabs her, forcing her to turn to face them. Banreas. She can see him. His darken skin, his yellow vallaslin. His dark, brown eyes. She jerks back. She can _see_.

She reaches to touch his face. He’s real. Isera sees a spinning mirror floating in the air a few feet behind him. Isera takes off running towards it. She is awkward in her gait, but she grabs ahold of it and stares at her murky reflection.

Her eyes reflected back. They are golden in the middle and light blue on the rims of her iris. No longer where they, as one had once described to her, a murky white.

“By the Gods!” she whispers in disbelief. She touches the mirror and rubs her eyes. It’s not an illusion. “Where are we?” she asks, louder for others to hear.

“The Fade…” Solas answers. He begins rambling on about how it should be impossible to be in the fade physically, but Isera pays no mind. Everything is moving so quickly. Cole is distressed and yelling about something. 

Her brother is in front of her and then Solas. They both say something to her. Isera steps closer to Solas and then gently taps him on his chest. _Real._  

“Hi.” Is the only thing that she can articulate. Solas chuckles. “I understand this must be overwhelming for you. But you must focus. We are in a dangerous area in the Fade, and it is not safe to linger.” His voice sounds smoother than before. His hands are on her shoulders, his fingers pressing into them. She reaches up and grabs his forearms, mimicking the pressure and grounding herself. His eyes are gray with sparks of blue.

 

The world still feels like it is spinning. “Right. Fade. Dangerous. The fact that I can see is a unique side benefit.” She replies. She focuses on clearing her mind and acknowledging her surroundings. “Ban, next time you take me to a place where I can miraculously see, a nicer area would be preferred.” Isera jokes as she pulls away from Solas. 

Banreas pauses from his conversation between Hawke and Stroud to look at her. “You know; I would prefer not to be here at all.” He shouts back as he motions everyone to follow him. Isera struggles to not stare at everyone. Everything is more intense in color. It is overwhelming.

Isera knows that this moment is not going to last even if she feels desperate to keep it. They had to leave the Fade. She follows behind everyone watching them intently. She is close enough for them not to be too concerned, but far away enough to take in color, the movements, the life that each one of them presented with.

She does not want to leave.

\---

Isera had struggled with leaving Stroud behind. Her brother had to push her out first. It didn’t feel right leaving someone behind. Then there was the spirit of the Divine. That was weird, to say the least. Banreas remembered everything. Everyone saw it. It was like a telepathic memory that everyone experienced. The demon of fear consistently tried to weaken each party member with their fears in a desperate attempt to thwart their efforts. But it was over.

The moment she was thrust out of the fade, her vision blurred. What was a mixture of a joyous celebration of the defeat of an enemy, Isera felt disappointment. Even now, has her brother decides either to exile the Grey Wardens from Orlais or to conscript them to the Inquisition, Isera was bottling up her feelings of hopelessness. She did not care.

Soon they would return to Skyhold and address another concern. The Civil War between the Empress and her Cousin


	5. Chapter 5

Skyhold is bustling the weeks preceding the success at Adamant. The moral is extremely high. Isera remains mostly in her tower, feeling bitter and angry. She helps those who come to the healing center but rarely leaves unless needed. 

Banreas is too busy to visit. The fall out of conscripting the Wardens. Nobles from both Ferelden and Orlais protested the decision for fear of Corypheus influence on them. But Banreas remains steadfast in his decision. He shared that his decision was based on the fact that the Fifth Blight began in Ferelden, a country that had banned the Wardens years prior and only let them return months before the Blight truly hit. 

He had argued, for safety in regarding future blights, banning the Wardens from Orlais could have long-term consequences once this fight has ended. At least, that is what she overhead from the soldiers when they stopped at the clinic.

There is always dissent to be had, however. Plus, there are rumors that the Inquisition will be invited to the Winter Palace. This is the time to make it know that the Inquisition not only has power in numbers but in influence.

She is surprised when Solas comes into the clinic. Isera is on the second level still in bed. She listens as he walks around, picking and setting down glasses that clink together. He calls up to her. When he receives no response, he slowly makes his way up the stairs. The creaking as he steps causes her body to stiffen in anxiety.

Isera pulls the blankets over her head. She hopes that she has successfully hidden the disheveled mess of her bed makes it appear that she is not there. She should be feeling embarrassed or shame. It’s well into the afternoon. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t feel anything.

“I can see the blankets moving.”

“It’s a ghost,” Isera replies. Her voice is hoarse.

“Clearly there is a solid form.”

“No, just a shell it seems.”

Suddenly, her blankets are pulled from her face. Solas stares at her. She can’t figure out if it's pity or indifference. “You’re upset.”

“No. Being upset implies feeling. I’m not feeling anything.”

He sighs loudly. “You are upset because you experienced something you thought would no longer bother you. Yet, you have a taste of it only to have it cruelly taken away.”

“Really, do your elven eyes see that?”

“Do you always deflect with humor or sarcasm?” Solas bristles at her words. 

“Clearly. It’s a running theme.” She retorts.

“An exhausting one.”

“Why are you here?” She changes the topic. She has yet to move from her bed.

“The Inquisitor is not able to break away from the nobles. Those of the inner circle who have gotten to know you are worried.” He sounds almost sincere.

“Yeah, and why are you here?”

He is unimpressed with her attitude. “They have requested my assistance.”

“Well, you assisted. You can leave now.” She waves her hand in dismissal.

“I am afraid not.”

Isera let out a loud whiny noise. “Let me fall into the void in peace.”

“You’re depressed.”

“Yeah, that’s why it’s called the void.” 

“Get. Up.” Solas demands, his voice still soft as he releases the magic. The magic catapults her out of her bed.

Isera screams as she lands on her stomach. “Seriously? What if I was naked?”

“Then you’d be even more embarrassed.”

Isera clucks. “As if. My ass looks great clothed or unclothed.” Solas sighs loudly before making his way down into the clinic. Isera’s hair is matted and flat from the lack of care. She quickly throws it into a bun, hoping for some appearance of being put together.

She changes into a clean robe before making her way downstairs. He’s still waiting.

Solas directs her to follow. She does. As they walk down the steps and towards the garden, Isera becomes more and more anxious. “Where are we going?” She asks.

“You will see.” Solas answers. His face is unmoving. She sighs louder than before. He leads her into one of the prayer rooms used by members of the Chantry. She wants to make a remark about this, but she restrains. 

“Close your eyes.” He instructs. She does. He takes her by her hands and pulls her into the room. “Stand here.” He tells her. She listens as he steps back, “Open.”

The walls are designed with the enchanted paint that she first saw weeks ago. One side depicts a lush, green forest with crystals at the top that appears to be falling between the leaves. The other side represented each member of the inner circle.

“Cole shared that you missed seeing the forest and desired to see what the members of the Inquisition appeared,” Solas tells her. He stands a distance away, observing her as she moved around like room.

“I didn’t tell him that.” She whispers and approaches the mural of the inner circle. “No, Cole…is different. He is a spirit that took the form of a human. As such, he possesses abilities that a spirit does.” He answers.

“That’s why he looks different. He’s not actually human.” She responds, still captivated by the art.

“It seems that whatever magical effect has caused you to lose what most would consider vision, allows you to see magical enchantments elsewhere. As such, Varric asked me to see about enchanting the words of his books. Will you tell me if it works?” His voice is soft. She turns to look at him. He is holding a small leather bounded book in his hand.

She is scared to touch it. She can see it shimmering between the pages. Isera slowly and nervously takes the book out of his hands. She sits down and stares at the cover. Her eyes start to water as she traces the binding. After a minute she begins to open the book. Where blank, gray pages would have been now are shining black letters.

_**Hard in Hightown by Varric Tethras** _

_**Chapter One** _

_**They say coin never sleeps, but anyone who’s walked the patrol of Hightown Market at midnight might disagree…** _

Tears roll off of her cheeks as she holds her breath trying to not burst into tears. Isera sees things as the Veil presses against them. If the Veil can touch it, she can see it. Unfortunately, books are not this way. Words are flat against the pages and the Veil cannot differentiate between them. The Veil does not recognize colors without magical properties. The Veil moves through gradients of gray, never truly black and never truly white. Isera has been viewing the world through a grayscale lens with rare opportunities of enchanted objects that shimmer with colors. 

“Does it…we can try again. Dorian had another idea if this one failed.” He steps closer, taking a knee to take the book from her. She refuses to let him take it.

“Solas,” she hiccups as she smiles. She quickly wipes her tears away. “It works. I can see the words.” It is hard for her to speak. Her chest feels heavy. “I wasn’t expecting any of this.” She motions around to the murals. “But, I can’t read. Not novels.” She giggles pathetically.

“I was six when I lost my vision. I can read spell books when they are enchanted and runes and basic sentences to understand spells, but…not this…” Her shoulders shrug in defeat.

She can’t look him in the eye. The embarrassment is too much. She can feel the heat raiding off her cheeks, and her nose is beginning to clog.

He moves to sit near her. “There is a natural rectification for that. I will enchant more books that you can practice from. There is no reason to be ashamed. You have demonstrated that you are a powerful mage. You have trained your will to control magic and withstand possession. The same indomitable focus used for that can be utilized for this skill.” His words sound passionate and convincing. He honestly believes that she can.

Isera chuckles. “Indomitable focus?”

“Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated. I imagine that the sight would be…fascinating.”

And for once, Isera had no retort for him. He slightly smirked before began to describe which member was who in the mural and who contributed what to the creation. For once in her life, Isera felt completely included in something that she was not expecting.


	6. Chapter 6

“I want you to come.” Banreas pleads as Isera is sprawled out in his bed. “It’ll be fun! There will be people—“

Isera scoffs, staring blankly at the ceiling. He has been at begging her for the last hour to attend the ball at Halamshiral.

“I hate people.” Her voice is monotone. Isera doesn’t understand why Banreas wants her to go. She has no true affiliation with the Inquisition outside of being related to the leader.

“Well, there’s dancing!” He offers.

“I hate dancing, too.”

“There will be food.”

There is a pause before she responds. “Well, I like food,” Isera grumbles.

“Solas is going. I want Sera to go too. I just need you.” Banreas jumps into bed next to her. “Please, sister.” Isera shrugs unaffected by his plea.

The ball is in a few weeks, and the Inquisition had been invited by Grand Duke Gaspard. Josephine had shared that this invitation would cause a stir amongst the nobles. 

“I am not formally part of the Inquisition. Cassandra will be better choice.” Isera tells him as she gently slaps his arm. “I’ve seen how you stare at her.”

“I haven’t been staring!” 

“You have! Have you seen her fight Iron Bull? Hmmm.” Isera hums with a giggle as she fans herself.

“Like you’re one to talk. I’ve seen you talking more to Solas. He has been spending a lot of time in the clinic.” Banreas deflects her statement and throws a pillow at her. Isera only laughs in response. Her smile feels larger than life.

Banreas stares at his sister as he jumps onto the bed. “How have you been feeling?” He leans closer to her, laying his head on her stomach. “I know I’m busy, but if you call sister, I’ll always come.”

Isera lays her head down. “I’m still…something, I guess. I’m not sad per say. But…it isn’t as intense anymore. Somedays…it’s harder. Today isn’t so hard.” She is torn between being honest and simply lying. But, it’s her brother.

“I’m sorry…I forced you to leave.” And he did. He forced her to leave the Fade. _Does he feel guilty?_ Isera wonders.

“Well, if we are both honest, if you didn’t force me to leave I would most likely be dead. It’s fine.” Isera sighs. “Life isn’t fair, but…I have a gift that others do not.”

“Finding the light in things.” He responds.

“On most days. I…have made some good friends here.” Isera begins giggling. “Cole likes to leave the little frilly cakes on my bed on the really bad days.”

“He is thoughtful, as always and you have a sweet tooth” Banreas replies, jabbing her in the side.

“Banreas, I would only eat sweets if the cook wouldn’t kick me out.” Isera awkwardly tries to hit him. Suddenly, it dawns on her why Banreas keeps inviting her to the ball.

“You want to annoy the nobility by bringing the elves! The Elven Inquisition?!” Her pitch is high. “Josie would not approve of inciting such problems.” She curls down to stare at him incredulously as she laughs loudly. 

“I would never do such a thing, sister.” His tone is sarcastic, but his grin is broad. “I only intend to appease the nobility and protect the Empress.” He climbs out of bed. “Plus,” he sounds excited. “I had this made for you!”

He walks into his closet and pulls out a mask. “Here!” He tosses it onto the bed. The mask is shaped with the horns of the halla and has been painted with the enchanted paint. The front of the mask glitters white and slowly fades to a sparkling gray as it progresses towards the intertwined horns.

“Gods! Have you been writing mother?” Isera shrieks as she grabs the mask. “You do know she used to make me wear the skull of the halla when I would study with the Seers?!”

He makes a face of disgust. “I didn’t know that. Why?”

Isera shrugs in bewilderment. “Something about increasing the ability to commune with the Spirits. They even decorate the skulls with jewels and enchantments!” 

Banreas looks at her in disbelief. The Dalish have practices that those in the Circle would consider odd or even blood magic, but nothing regarding wearing the skulls of an animal. “Well, I can assure you this one is not made from a real halla. But will you go? I need to tell Josie to have the tailor come for you.”

Isera hums. “Yes, but I only agree because I want to cause chaos amongst the Orlesian nobility. And the food.” She emphasizes. Banreas cheers as he thrusts his hands in the air with pride.

 

\---

 

The Vivienne, Josie, and Leliana stand around her as they argue about the color of her dress. The tailor quivers with anxiety, possibly even fear to the side of Isera as she stands tall on a stool with garments hanging from her. Vivienne had taken it among herself to enchant each stool of fabric, not for Isera she emphasized, but to create a new fashion statement in the capital. 

“I think the ombré would be best. A deep, velvet red at the top, fading down to a shimmering white.” Leliana suggests, pulling on a piece of fabric.

“My dear, we should place roses at the top with a sweetheart neckline. I can enchant them to smell like real roses.” Vivienne hums in approval, her hand under chin as she eyes Isera.

“The red compliment her deep, copper skin. And the shimmer would be like a bright topaz! She will be the gem of the ball!” Josie giggles. She reaches for a thin, opaque fabric and grabs a golden clasp. “She will need something to cover her shoulders. Conveying the sense of modesty while still showing them.” 

Banreas walks in dawning chosen Inquisition formal outfit that he and others will have to wear. He watches as the three women discuss what would be best to make an impression. He approaches his sister, who is standing with her arm out to the side like a scarecrow.

“Having fun?” He whispers pulling on one of the fabrics.

“I’d rather wear a halla skull and run around naked than be standing her being poked with needles,” Isera whispers harshly. “And Josie keeps telling me how to talk to Orlesian nobility. Have you met me? I am a damn druffalo. I do not have the patience for human politics!”

“You'll be all right, sister.” He encourages with a grin. It is odd seeing his sister being dressed up. He knows her as being quick and scrappy. Over the years when he was able to see her, she would wear simple cloth and armor, nothing flashy that would bring attention to her. They fought in few battles together, but when they did, she was defensive. She crept on the battlefield healing and protecting. When she would engage in combat, she hit hard and fast before letting a warrior intercept the enemy. 

He, on the other hand, moved faster. He mastered the ability to shoot arrows as he ran. He rarely let himself become pinned down by the enemy. Banreas recounts a battle that they fought together. Human bandits had gotten too close to the camp during one visit. Isera made the battlefield harder for the humans to navigate by sending spikes of ice throughout that she would change. It was a complicated maze for anyone who did know what to expect.

And now she was standing helplessly in his bedroom held hostage by three of his most influential members of the Inquisition. Soon all the members of the inner circle are being held in Banreas’s quarters being fitted for the formal wear. Vivienne, Cassandra, Blackwall, Varric, and Dorian all had been invited based on merit, and all were being fitted for formal wear different than that of the Inquisition’s. Josie informed them that they also would have to wear masks to delineate them as separate from the official organization. 

Vivienne having played the Game and being known in many circles, of course, was invited in lieu of the Inquisition. Cassandra being the former Right Hand of the Divine was as well. Blackwall, despite being a Grey Warden, was known for many heroics on the battlefield and thus, an invitation was extended to him. Varric was a world renown author that apparently the Orlesians loved. And Dorian, being from Tevinter, was invited out of curious minds.

Those who would be attending as Inquisition members included the all three advisors, Banreas, Sera, Solas, and the Iron Bull. Isera would arrive with Inquisition members; however, at the request of her brother. This, of course, distressed Josie as Isera is not formally apart of the inquisition and has no attachments to Orlais. Leliana had asked that Cole use his skill of making people forget to attend as well. He would, of course, stay hidden in the shadows to gather information. 

The fate of Thedas is being held in the Inquisition’s hands. If they fail, the probability that Corypheus will win increases tenfold.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you are interesting is seeing exactly what Isera's dress looks like please go here: http://vir-tanadahl.tumblr.com/image/133568936499

Finally, the day had come. The Inquisition is staying in a small Château a mile outside of the Winter Palace in Halamshiral. One by one the members of the inner circle congregated in the foyer. Josie, Leliana, Cullen, Sera, Banreas, the Iron Bull, and Solas are the first ones to finish dressing. Josie quickly begins checking everything to make sure those representing the Inquisition are up to par.

Vivienne follows dressed in her usual outfit but rather than solely pants, she wears a sheer shift of a skirt with a high slit. Silver and white with high-knee boots. The high collar is larger than normal, and she dons the Hat of Majesty. Tonight she is the embodiment of Madame de Fer – the Lady of Iron.

Cassandra refused to wear a dress. Instead, she is wearing something similar to a pantsuit. Her top is shimmery and black. It is a long-sleeved blouse with the collar is above the neck bone and is synched at the waist, but flows out and turns sheer as it ends on the floor with red flowers embroidered. The pants are tight, but flexible allowing her to move if necessary with black riding boots. She is unmistakably displeased that she has to be here. Her mask represents House Pentaghast and is a dark purple.

Blackwall chooses to have formal wear crafted in the Grey Warden’s colors and abstained from wearing a mask. Grey Warden’s pledge to not become involved in political matters. Varric wears a red, leather jack with golden embroideries at the ends. His mask is simple. A red and gold Volto.

Dorian, of course, wears an outfit fashionable in Tevinter. His robe is a dark green with a high color that has golden thread throughout. His fingers are adorned with golden jewels, much like Tevinter custom. On the back of his coattail is a golden embroidery serpent. He, however, refuses to wear a mask that depicts House Pavus. He settles on a mask that is connected to a rod. He wants to be able to remove his mask freely to not hid his beautiful face.

Isera is the last one to finish. She argued with the tailor often. Her dress glitters with the enchanted fabric. The top of her dress is a sweetheart neckline with embroidered roses, that smell like real roses. It is a dark red, like Leliana wanted and fades out in a shimmering white. The tailor had tried to get Isera to wear a golden pair of heels, but she adamantly refused. Instead, she is wearing simple golden flats.

Josie began addressing everyone before the carriages arrived. Isera is paying no mind as she nervously fidgets with her dress. She feels out of place.

Solas steps closer to her. “Nervous?” he asks. He appears relaxed and less guarded than usual. Isera turns to look at him. “Uncomfortable, mostly.”

Solas looks over towards Josie as she continues to speak. “You look beautiful.” His voice is quiet. Isera stares at him before looking away. “I—thank you.” She answers as she turns her gaze to Josie as well.

“The advisors will arrive first, following the Inquisitor, and finally everyone else if you have not made arrangements already.” Josie takes a deep breath. “All right everyone, let’s be off!”

\---

Banreas, Isera, and Solas are squished into one side of the carriage. Iron Bull is massive and takes up most of the other seat. Sera is sitting to the side of Iron Bull with her legs draped over him.

“All right, be on the watch for Venatori activity. Leliana informed me that she believes that there is a magical elven artifact in Empress Celene’s possession. We should be looking for that as well.” Banreas begins briefing them.

“What’s with the magic elf-y things? Strange, innit?” Sera grumbles.

“Boss, we don’t need another magical object in play. We have the Venatori to worry about.” Iron Bull nods.

“Perhaps the Venatori are looking for it,” Solas adds.

Isera turns her head to look at her brother. “If it is magical, I could locate it easier and get it out discreetly.” She tells him.

“If we know about it, it is safe to assume the Venatori do as well. Our agents did not get enough information to say what it is. But they confirmed it is elven.” Banreas explains.

“Then how do we find something that we don’t know what it is?” Iron Bull asks shifting uncomfortably in his chair.

“I can,” Isera speaks up again. “I’ve done it before.”

Banreas looks at her. “You’ve smuggled elven artifacts out of a palace?” He is sarcastic.

She frowns. “I have smuggled ancient elven artifacts out of heavily guarded Circle towers before,” Isera argues.

She can feel the surprise radiating off of everyone. “You’ve…smuggled?” Iron Bull sounds impressed.

“She’s a thief!” Sera cackles with a grin, punching Iron Bull in the arm.

Isera shrugs. “It was easy. I was twelve, and mother heard a rumor that the Ostwick Circle had something that she wanted. I just pretended to be a new mage, and the Templars took me. I was there for a few months, found it and left.” Isera shrugged.

Banreas stares at her in disbelief. “Mother had you…stealing?”

“Yes?” She pauses. “Is that not normal?” Isera questions. “It isn’t like it belonged to them.”

The carriages come to a halt as there is a loud announcement that the Inquisition has arrived. Isera places her mask on as Iron Bull and Sera step out first. “No, by the way, that is not normal!” Banreas whispers, his tone is harsh, as he motions Solas to step out first, as he is closest to the door.

Isera shrugs and follows Solas, who offers his hand to assist her. “They didn’t need it.” She mutters to no one in particular.

The Grand Duke is quick to interact with Banreas. He steers the Inquisitor away leaving the rest to follow behind. The whispers by the nobility at the audacity that the Inquisition company is made up of elves and a qunari. Isera can just image the pleasure Banreas is squirming with delight. It is practically blasphemy.

Josephine and Leliana had trained Banreas for weeks on how to navigate the waters of the game. If he is uncomfortable, he does not show it. As Isera and the others enter the vestibule to convene with the Advisors before continuing to be announced in the ballroom. Josie, again, emphasizes the importance of behaving a certain way. Her comment is direct towards Sera, who is grinning like the cat who ate the canary.

“Isera, you will be announced following the Inquisitor. After you, the advisors, and then Solas, Iron Bull, and Sera. After introductions, you will be able to roam around.” Josie informs them.

Isera nods as the procession begins. Banreas is introduced after the Grand Duke. He looks relax and unfazed by the dangerous waters around him. He bows to the Empress before walking up the steps after the Grand Duke.

“Mistress Lavellan, sister of Inquisitor Lavellan.”

Isera feels her body tense as takes a deep breath and starts descending the stairs. She turns, bows and begins following after her brother. She hears the humming approval of the court. They are enraptured by her outfit, despite her being an elf.

Isera stands next to the advisors with Iron Bull, Sera, and Solas behind them. Banreas speaks to the Empress in a cryptic manner that delights the court. Isera wants to scoff. When the Empress dismisses them to mingle Isera follows Banreas who begins greeting those affiliated with the court.

Isera breaks away heading towards Cullen, who looks far more uncomfortable than she does. He is being flirted with, and the Commander is extremely uncomfortable with it. His back is against the wall, and his arms are crossed. Yet the people step closer.

“Ah, Commander, if I may have a word.” Isera steps between the horde of nobles. He looks relieved to see a familiar face beckoning his attention.

“Oh! She’s the Inquisition’s sister!” A high pitched voice comments. “Are you two lovers?”

Cullen and Isera tense at the idea. “Well, that would certainly not concern you,” Isera responds. The words are too direct and biting for Orlesian culture especially with the comment coming from an elf. The woman glares at her and huffs fanning herself. She whispers “how rude!”

Isera walks away turning only to check if the Commander follows. He does. Isera steps outside onto the balcony. The air is fresh and crisp compared to the air inside the Winter Palace. Cullen sighs with relief.

“They are like hounds,” he mutters rubbing the back of his neck. He coughs. “What did you need?” He asks.

Isera shrugs. “Nothing. You looked uncomfortable and needed a break.” Isera leads against the banister watching the party goers inside.

“Oh!” Cullen sounds shocked. “You didn’t have to do that. I will manage.”

“Cullen, I have no doubt you can handle a swarm of women. But you looked like you wanted to flee. As far as everyone else is concerned, I have taken you away to discuss important Inquisition meeting…” Isera pauses. “Or I’m your secret lover. I’m sensing the Oralians love a bit of dramatic flair.” She jokes.

Cullen chuckles. “That they do.” He sighs and begins stretching his neck.

“If you walk around more they can’t pin you down,” Isera suggests.

He lightly scoffs. “They are everywhere.” He begins to press his fingers into the side of his temple.

“A headache?” Isera whispers glancing towards him.

“They have been coming more often.” He pauses. “Do you know?” Cullen is referencing his decision to stop talking lyrium.

Isera nods. “He told me.” She moves to stand in front of him. “May I try something?” she asks.

Cullen looks skeptical. Isera begins whispering. “I want to see if my magic will be of assistance.”

Cullen stares down at her before agreeing. Isera, who is at least a foot shorter than him, stands on the balls of her feet. She presses her fingers onto the nape of his neck. She whispers a ritual that she has done before. She drags her fingers around his ears and onto his temple before releasing.

Cullen blinks a few times. “Is...it supposed to feel cold?” He is unsure as touches the back of his neck.

“Yes, it will fade to being warm and then back to normal by the end of the night. Is it helping?” Isera questions.

He nods. “I believe so. Thank you.”

Isera smiles. “Well, come on, Commander.” She turns to head inside. Isera leaves him alone as she heads out into the vestibule. She can hear Iron Bull flirting with nobles. Blackwall and Sera hiding out in the Wall of Champions.

The elven servants stare at her longer than they would with a human. She is an elf wearing a mask. A participant in the Game whether she wanted to be or not.

“Drink, my lady?” An elven man approaches her bowing his head.

Isera nods. “Thank you.” She answers. He continues to stand.

“Hallas are most beautiful, no?” He makes a gesture towards her mask. He carries a tray of drinks.

She stares at him. “Quite majestic.” She hesitates as she takes a cup from him. “Wild and enduring, much like the elves.”

The man nods in approval. Isera seems to be answering correctly. “The Empress is quite fond of elves. Many pieces of them are scattered over the place, particularly in the eastern wing. Perhaps you should look.”

“Perhaps I will” Isera answers.

“Pardon me, mistress.” The elven servant walks away.

Isera continues walking into another vestibule. She spots Solas and heads towards him. She is surprised to find him relaxed leaning against the wall.

“You look comfortable.” She tells him. Solas looks at her. There is a brightness on his cheeks that she can see.

 “I do adore the heavy blend of power, intrigue, danger, and sex that permeants these events.” He responds almost cheerfully. “I have seen countless such displays during my journeys in the Fade. Only the customs have changed.” He recalls with a faint smile.

Suddenly, two Orlesian nobles are upon them. They introduce themselves to Isera. Their titles and positions are a blur to her. They try to step between her and Solas. Solas frowns at the intrusion.

“Your accent is quite beautiful, my lady? Are you from Antiva?” one asks as he grabs her hand. He is tall and wears a yellow mask with a pointed nose.

“Rivain,” Isera answers as she tries to pull her hand away. He holds on tighter.

“You smell absolutely delicious. Roses? Who knew a heathen country could produce such a beauty?” He responds. His comment is an insult hidden in the appearance of a compliment. Isera scowls.

“Why don’t you come with us? We could…show you around.”

Isera scrunches her nose in disgust. “And just where would you take me?” her tone is caustic.

“I have a key to the East wing.” The other man, who is shorter and wearing blue announces. “I could…show you around. The Empress has quite a collection.”

It dawns on Isera that this is her way to explore the Winter Palace without alerting too many people. 

Isera hums. “Well, do lead the way.” She flirts. Solas looks alarmed at the interaction but stays silent. He eyes her disapprovingly as she moves away from him.

 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please note the change in rating from G to M! (smut and implied rape)
> 
> Trigger warning: Rape implied.

The men take her to the off-limits area of the eastern wing. Isera flirts with them the whole way, she strokes their ego with easy. Her mother once said that men always believe that women find them attractive. Isera, however, finds these men disgusting. It is clear that they have a fetish for elves. They lead her into a bedroom where another elf woman is cowering naked in the corner.

“Look! We brought you a friend!” The man in blue explains with delight. “This one thinks she can play noble!”

He roughly pushes Isera to her knees ripping off her mask and kicks her. Isera gasps as pain radiates in her back. She struggles to catch her breath as the man in yellow jerks her face up

“Wait! She’s blind!” He peers into her eyes.

“Who cares?” The shorter one snaps.

Isera takes a deep breath as she centers herself and her magic pushing through the pain. “I’m not blind, but you will be,” Isera responds calmly before conjuring a spell that turns her breath into ice. Isera rapidly exhales onto the man’s face. Ice crystals fill the man’s cornea as he begins to scream in pain. She rushes to seal over his mouth with ice.

The other man becomes frozen in fear. “I—what? P-please…don’t hurt me”

Isera hushes him as she uses her magic to force him into a wall. She watches as ice begins to cover his body trapping him against the wall.

The elven woman remains silent still cowering in the corner. Isera approaches her with quiet steps and slow movements. “It’s okay. I’m friendly. I won’t let them hurt you again.” She whispers.

Isera pulls the blankets off the nearby bed. “Here…” She gently hands the girl the blanket.

“You’re a witch!” The elven woman exclaims in a whispered horror as she wraps herself tighter in the blankets.

“I am here to help.” Isera answers. “I’m Isera.”

The woman nods. “Mariane. Did you kill them?” she replies. She stands and pulls her shoulder back in strength.

“Uh,” Isera looks behind her. “No, they are just frozen. One will lose his sight, though.”

Mariane looks at her with anger as she tugs on the blanket. “They kidnap us. Tell us if we don’t do what they will say, they will accuse of stealing! They’d have us maimed or killed.”

Isera looks back at the men. She mutters a spell under her breath. The ice will slowly begin to encase the body of the men. It will be a slow and painful death.

“They won’t any longer.” Isera informs her as she turns her gaze to the woman.  “Maybe you can help me, then. Which room would have a collection of old antiques? I was told the Empress enjoys history.” Isera asks.

Mariane nods and does not question her savior. “She does. I’ll show you.”

Isera grabs her mask and follows the servant. The servant leaves her alone in the room with the comment, “I did not see you.”

“Nor I you,” Isera replies as she closes the door of the chamber. Almost all of the objects have been touched with magic in some way. But the brightest glow is near the back. Isera rushes towards the object. It’s a circulate. It is elven made and magical. There is a loud bell sound that brings Isera back to reality. The dances were about to begin.

Isera slips the circulate on as she rushes out of the room. She places her mask on just as she enters into one of the vestibules. She spots the elven woman, now fully clothed, she helped earlier back to work. They make eye contact. Isera nods towards her before heading to the ballroom.

Isera calmly walks into the ballroom. The dance is about to begin, and she notices that the Grand Duke’s sister, Florianne, has pulled her brother away. She spots Solas standing on the edge of the railing that overlooked the dance floor.

She walks up to him. He glances at her in disinterest. “Did you enjoy your time away?” his words are flat. Isera nods. “I most definitely did.” She dryly responds. She does not care to elaborate.

“I’m sure the gentlemen will be joining us soon?”

“I’m afraid not. A cold spell hit them and are quite ill.” Isera watches as her brother dances away. “Would you care to dance?” she inquires.

Solas glances at her processing what she said. “Dancing with an apostate? Even as the Inquisitor’s sibling, the court would hardly approve.” He pauses. “Perhaps once our goal is complete.”

As the dancing ends, Isera turns to head back towards the location of the advisors. Banreas catches her before she approaches them and informs her that he and his companions will be heading into the elven’s quarters. There have been issues reported there. Isera nods, smiling. “I will inform them of your moment of absence. But do be quick.”

\---

Her brother surfaced an hour later. Isera stands with the advisors as he informs him of what he found. Briala tried to murder a servant who knew about her relations with the Empress. The Grand Duke had his men posted secretly in the building. The Duke’s sister is out to the throne. And Celene had a man tied to the bedpost.

“And,” Banreas adds, “we were unable to locate the elven artifact. We do not have time to search the rest of the palace.” His voice is laced with disappointment. 

For a minute the advisors bickered about what to do. “Wait here, Cullen. I am going to have a word with the Grand Duchess. Cullen looks at him, eyes wide in a panic “What? There’s no time! The Empress with begin her speech any moment!”

Isera makes no move to indicate that she indeed found the artifact there is no time as Banreas is rushing off to the ballroom, where the Empress was soon to be assassinated.

Grand Duchess Florianne was just beginning her ascent to see the Empress when Banreas jumps from the railing onto the banister with a grin.

The court gasps at the act.

“We owe the court one more show, Your Grace.” Banreas is smirking and his voice is light. Florianne turns around gracefully, appearing unaffected at the site of him. “Inquisitor.”

Banreas begins ascending the steps. “The eyes of every noble in the empire are upon us, your grace, remember to smile.”

\---

It is well into the twilight light as the companions are on their way back to the château. Empress Celene gave the Grand Duchess to the Inquisition to deal with and is arranging for the Grand Duke to be executed. She even named Briala the Marquise of the Dales. As it turns out, the two men Isera killed were minor nobles of land in the Dales. Their murder was blamed on the Venatori magic. Orlais did not fall tonight and fully supports the Inquisition. The Empress went so far as to donate the land to the Inquisition.

Banreas yawns. “Too bad we didn’t find that artifact.”

“Like I said, boss. Too much magic at play.” Iron Bull replies trying to stretch out.

Isera hums. “Oh, you mean like this elven artifact?” She removes her mask showing the circulate.

_How did you—_

_She’s a thief!_

Sera’s laughter fills the carriage as she punches Iron Bull.

“Orlesian men have elven fetishes.” Isera shrugs as a board, mischievous smile appears on her face.

Banreas stares blankly at her recalling the meeting with the Empress regarding the two minor lords. Who were froze solid. In a bedroom full of sex toys. In the east wing. “You killed people over this?” Banreas snaps pulling away from his sister.

Isera recoils, shaking her head. “Not for this!” she shouts.

“Then why?” He demands. He is acting as Inquisitor and not her brother.

Isera stares at him. “Because they were hurting people. Trying to leave them dead and desperate on the inside. _Our people_. Banreas, I know you would shed no tears for _flat ears_ , but I would help them.” Her voice is hot and offended. “And, honestly, do you plan on to give me a morality speech given your deeds?”

The carriage stops. They are back at the château. Isera forces herself out first as she storms inside. She is angry. The Inquisition wanted the damn artifact, and he created a blood bath of Venatori. But she kills two men seeking to harm one of the People, no matter if they believe, and she is the person in the wrong.

Isera spends the next few minutes pacing in her room mumbling to herself.

There is a loud knock at the door. Isera turns and throws the door open planning on yelling at Banreas. But it is Solas standing outside of her door with her mask in his hands. They stare at each other for a moment. Isera can hear her heart pounding in her ears.

“I believe this is yours,” Solas states as he raises the mask for her to take it. Isera cocks her head to the side, but rather than taking the mask, she steps back and opens the door further inviting him in.

Wordlessly, Solas walks into the room. Isera shuts the door and steps away, her eyes not leaving his. She finds him intoxicating. He places the mask on the side table. They circle each other. The room is full of desire and tension of attraction long since ignored. He loosens his cuff links before bowing slightly, beckoning her to come to him. A dance. The one they had missed at the ball.

Isera moves towards him. His hand is larger than hers as he laces his fingers with hers. His free hand presses against her lower back and pulls her close. She gasps as her chest slams into his, her hand laying against his chest as he begins to lead. Her steps are awkward against his, but he is patient as he slows his movement down, silently teaching her the steps.

His eyes look different tonight, but Isera is too distracted to see why. He twirls her around with ease as he brings her close again.

She stares at his lips. She is hungry to taste them. Although she would never openly admit it, she has found him attractive from the day she arrived in Skyhold. She feels his hand travel from her lower back to the nape of her neck and into her hair. His deft fingers remove the pins in her hair, and they fall to the ground with light clinks. He laces his fingers into her hair, his nails scratching against her scalp as he gently pulls down, his eyes still locked on hers.

Isera lets out a soft moan. There is a fire in her belly—she _wants_ him. Solas reacts, his mouth consuming hers using her cry to his advantage. His tongue is quick to enter her mouth flicking against hers. Isera responds earnestly, pulling him closer as she nips at his lower lip. He growls in pleasures. Their dance by the end of the bed and Solas gently pushes her down onto the soft mattress.

He stares down at her watching as she begins unclipping the clasp at her neck.  He has already started unbuttoning his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. His skin looks soft in the moonlight. She traces the light scars that have long since healed on his chest with her eyes. The boots he wore are left on the floor of the bed as he climbs above her into bed.

His face is stoic, but Isera see there is a hunger in his eyes that makes her ache for him. His mouth trails down her neck as one hand traces up her leg, pushing her dress up to her waist. Solas traces his fingers against the wetness between her legs causing her to moan in desire. She bucks against his fingers wanting more of him. He moves his hand away, ignoring her protest, and begins to unlace the bodice of her dress.

Once free, his tongue makes quick work of her nipples. His tongue is warm against her skin as he swirls tongue around the erect bud. He begins sucking on them, moving between the two, as he presses his fingers against her heat once more. He starts making a circular motion, enjoying the feeling as she squirms and moans in pleasure beneath him. She makes a whining mewl as he moves too slowly for her. She bucks into his hand again begging for more.

Solas grins as he slides his two fingers into her. Her hands grasp the bed sheets as his fingers pump faster. Her wavy black hair is sprawled against the bed and stuck to her face. The moonlight bounces against her gleaning copper skin given her an ethereal look about her. Solas is enchanted with her.

Isera makes a noise of protest as she grabs his wrist, stopping his fingers from going back inside her. She licks her lips as she takes his fingers into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his finger. She sucks on his fingers before releasing the with a loud ‘pop.’

Isera grins as she rolls him onto his back and straddles him. She slows her hips as she grinds against him enjoying his hardness. Solas breathes out, his dick pulsing against her. His fingers trace up her torso, cupping her breasts and pushing them together. He is rubbing her nipples between his fingers as she bucks her hips against him. She slowly removes her dress that is still hanging from her waist.

She is naked before him, and he groans with each roll of her hips. His hands slid down to her waist as he presses her harder into him. She moves and deftly unstrings his pants, pulling them lower relieving his hardening dick.

Isera licks her lips as she grabs him and slowly begins to tease him with her hand. She presses herself against him, her wetness arousing him more. Solas grabs her and holds her still. He angles himself to slide into her and slowly brings her onto him. Isera moans loudly as he fills her. She quickly adjusts to having him inside of her as she begins to ride him.

His hands are tight on her hips as he presses her harder onto him with each roll of her hips. He groans with pleasure as he feels her tighten around him before a cry release from her lips. She relaxes for a moment at the release, and he uses this to flip her onto her back.

Isera gasps at the change in position. But Solas moves quickly, and he is back inside her thrusting into her with heighten need. She wraps her legs around his waist as she meets his thrusts. She drags her nails up his back, and it drives him to thrust faster and faster. She moans louder with each push. She comes again, and he comes inside her. He rolls to the side of her, breathing hard as he closes his eyes. 

Isera stares at him for a moment, still catching her breath, before rolling over and crawling under the blankets. She tugs at his arm, beckoning him to join her. He pulls back the sheets and slides in next to her. Isera pulls him closer, snuggling into his side, playfully nipping at his shoulder. Solas chuckles as he wraps his arm around her.

Sleep comes quickly for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heads up, this is my first time writing smut, so if something felt off with it...please let me know so I can work bettering my writing.


	9. Chapter 9

The bright rays of the early morning sunlight radiate of off Isera as she blinks open her eyes. She is an early riser. On a typical day, she would begin brewing potions that are most needed. As the herbs steeped, she would head to the kitchen for a cup of tea and some breakfast. However, this morning is different—no potions are needing to be brewed and nothing in desperate need of her attention.

She rubs the sleep out of her eyes as she turns to look at Solas. There is a soft glow from the sun bouncing off of his skin as his chest gently rises and falls as he sleeps. His face is peaceful and undisturbed.

Isera slides out of bed. Isera wraps a silken robe around her body. There is a small balcony attached to her quarters. Isera makes her way over to watch the sunrise. The smell of the freshly baked bread is coming from the nearby bakery. Her eyes flutter close as she enjoys the sound of the breeze rustles the nearby tree.

The sound of laughter fills her ears. Isera turns around in confusion. The laughter continues. Isera walks back into the room. A small, wispy sphere is dancing around Solas as another laugh echoes the room. Solas is still asleep as a small smile crosses his face. The wisp giggles something in elven? The language is similar to what the Dalish speak, but it’s different. Some of the words sound foreign to her ears, yet familiar.

“Hello?” Isera’s voice is soft as she speaks in elven. The wisp gasps and begins spinning dramatically in circles in fear. “Shh…” Isera continues as she opens her hands towards it. “It’s okay; you’re okay.”

The wisp continues to spin rushing around but with less vigor than before. Isera kneels leaving her palms up and open for the wisp to come to her. “Come here, please. You’re safe.” Her voice is faint.

The wisp hovers for a moment before continuously moving towards her. It speaks in a childlike voice as it nestles itself into Isera’s hands. Isera can only understand certain words. The wisps say something about loneliness, missing, and…Arlathan?

“What are you doing?” Solas asks, his voice rough from his deep sleep. He sits up and looks at her from the bed. The wisp jumps up, loudly squealing as it buzzes around between the two of them. It babbles odder elvish in excitement before disappearing into the Veil, back into the Fade.

Solas studies her as she stands up and walks to the bed. “Huh,” she hums. “That was interesting.”

Solas shifts in the bed. “Did you understand the language?” He asks. Isera shrugs. “Not really. I think it was speaking old elven.”

His shoulders drop as he relaxes as against the wall. “Yes.” He confirms.

Isera is fixated where the wisp disappeared. “How does it know? The Dalish barely have the knowledge of what the old words are.”

Solas nods in agreement. “Time is a concept created by men. The spirits of the Fade have no concept of such things.”

Isera takes a moment to process what he said.

“Bring it back.” She demands.

Solas chuckles at her request. “I cannot will it to come back.”

“If it knows the history of Arlathan or even the Dales, I want to know it. You can bring it back.” She tells him as she climbs into the bed.

He frowns at her statement. “I will not force it to come back, Isera. It is a living creature.”

Isera stares at him, ignoring his statement. “You can ask it to come back.” She emphasizes.

He sighs, “What would you ask of it?”

Isera was quick to answer. “Everything. We have lost so much. We struggle to remember and retain. If spirits hold the key to discovering our history, then I would seek to ask them questions.”

“What if it shares with you something you do not like…something you wouldn’t have expected? Would you believe it?”

“You said spirits only violate in their purpose based on our intentions. If my intentions are pure, I would not think it would lie.” She answers still deep in thought.

Solas hums, but whether it is approval or disapproval, Isera is unable to tell. “Nonetheless, it shall not rejoin us.” He looks towards the window. The sun is higher in the sky. “I should be going before our companions awaken.” He leans over the edge of the bed, grabbing his pants and sliding them on.

Isera crawls over to him. His back is facing her as she dangles her arms around his neck. “If you insist” she murmurs into his neck. Solas is far more muscular and leaner than most elven men and slightly taller. Isera begins gently biting his neck. He tilts his head to the side, allowing her greater access. “You are delaying the inevitable.”

“Would you expect anything less?” She purrs before giving a gentle tug at the lobe of his ear with her lips. He chuckles, gently shrugging her off as he collects his clothing.

Suddenly her door swings open. “Isera, I’m—“ Banreas halts. He stares wide-eyed at them. “—oh!”

Isera freezes, holding her breath for what to happen next. There is an uncomfortable silence.

“Inquisitor,” Solas announces before nodding. He makes his way out of the room. He appears unbothered at the intrusion.

The door shuts and Banreas coughs in discomfort. “I…do I need to?” He mutters. “Should I talk to him about…? Isn’t that the brotherly thing to do? He…took your…virtue?” He rambles. His hands move back and forth before throwing his arms in the air.

Isera snickers shaking her head at the awkwardness of it all. “He didn’t take anything. There was nothing to take. And at least he had pants on.”

“Really? When?” he continues to look at her with wide eyes.

Isera chuckles. “Twelve years ago? I was sixteen, I think? It was a hunter from Clan Sabre. Tamlen was his name?” Isera answers as she walks to the closet and begins pulling out clothing.

“Tamlen? Why does that sound familiar?” Banreas asks as he sits down.

Isera steps behand an Orlesian room divider to change. “He was an accomplished young hunter. Do you remember before the blight began and two hunters went missing and only one returned?”

“Vaguely?” He states.

Isera sighs. “Do you remember when the Keepers ordered everyone to not touch any eluvians if we were to come across them in ruins?”

Banreas perks up. “Yes! I remember that. Keeper Istimaethoriel banned us from searching any ruins without a First for months.”

“Well, that is because Tamlen and Lyna found an active eluvian and he went through. I don’t know what happened exactly. But Lyna returned gravely ill and was taken by the Grey Wardens. Talmen was never found.”

Banreas is humming in thought. “That’s how she became a Warden? I thought they just took her against the Keepers request.”

“I overheard the story from a craftsman from that clan. But you know, they do love their stories.” Isera shrugs. “But what did you want? Or do you want to know about all the people I have had sex with?”

“Oh, no.” Banreas shakes his head. “I came by to say sorry. I should trust you more. I just want to protect you.”

Isera nods. “I understand, but you should trust me more. And I can protect myself.”

“I know, I know. I just…never got the change to be the brother and keep you safe.” Banreas rubs the back of his neck.

Isera stares at him with a small smile. He is scared of losing her again, be it death, injury, or returning back to mother. “I’m the oldest, I protect you, silly.” She jokes as she steps out from the divider.

Banreas snorts. “You are older by a minute!”

“Still older!” Isera giggles as she hugs him. “It’s okay.”

“Now,” he jokes, “let’s talk about your choice in men.” Isera shakes her head in disbelief. “Let’s talk about your choice in women! Specifically, the one that is not Dalish!”

“Anywaaaay” Banreas changes the subject, as he steps back from here, “We are leaving in an hour back to Skyhold.”

“Mhm!” Isera hums as she shoos him out.  
\---  
Banreas had brought a mage from the court by the name of Morrigan back to Skyhold. He had shared that Leliana had dealings with her in the past, but it is clear that the two hold no love for each other. Banreas made a comment on how he met her son and only described him as polite, but odd. Morrigan also brought an eluvian.

Isera had argued with him that it was dangerous to have. She reminded him, again, of what happened to Tamlen when he found one. Banreas assured her that Morrigan assured him that the eluvian was safe. She was still skeptical.

Secretly, Isera had snuck into space where the eluvian is being kept. It is the same space that had the mural that Solas had created for her. Thus if she was caught, she had crafted an excuse for being there.

The mirror was inactive and appeared clean of any taint or dark magic, but Isera still did not trust the intent of the witch.

Rumors have been swirling about Corypheus’s next move. There had been Red Templars seen scouting in the Arbor Wilds. There are whispers that there is an elven temple he is trying to gain access to.

\---

Isera is sitting at her desk studying the circlet she stole from the Winter Palace. It has been extremely well created. It is golden with two small arches that settle inches behind the ears, Isera believes the gems are that decorate the circlet are white moonstones. Her mother, at one point, tried to teach Isera about healing gems, but Isera hadn’t been a good student.

The gems are glowing a dull, off-white color. It clearly has magical properties, but they are dormant. To her knowledge, Southern Thedas does not keep track of the moon cycle to the complexity that she is needing.

The Seers in Rivain did. They claimed that the cycles of the moon brought different magical properties out and overall strength of a spell.

Isera taps her fingers against her desk as she becomes impatient. She has a vague recollection of a spell that she had participated in years ago that involved moonstones. It could be worth the effort of recalling spell if it could unlock the hidden magic. She will need alcohol, extract of Royal Elf Root, the salve of Andraste’s Grace, a wind chime, and a bowl.

\---

The moon is beginning to rise as Isera hangs the wind chime off a nail. It sings as the wind starts to blow gently. It is brighter than normal. The light of the rising moon bounces off the misty clouds that are hanging low tonight. If she remembers correctly, the moon will be at its highest point very soon.

The wind chime is meant to attract the spirits. She can see them peeking through the Veil. Isera welcomes the spirits into her. The Seers use spirits to assist with more powerful spells. Isera sits down and opens of salve of Andrate’s Grace scooping some of it onto her fingers. She begins tracing a rune onto her forehead, cheeks, and the top of her hands while whispering a spell.

The spirit is calm, gently speaking to her and guiding her through the ritual.

Isera feels the spirit guiding her movements as she places alcohol and royal elf root into the bowl. She begins humming as the moon aligns. The moonstones start glowing and vibrating with awakening magic. Isera and the spirit begin chanting as she adds the circlet into the bowl. There is a magical charge that bursts inside her. It is done.

Her fingers are tingling, and arms feel heavy as the magic dissipates. She welcomes the spirit to leave her as she falls backward.

Isera wakes up as the sun begins to rise and a raven nipping at her face. She groggily sits up as she looks around. There are scorch marks stretching out from where she is at. The magic was stronger than she prepared for. Isera grabs the circlet from the empty bowl and fiddles with it. It looks the same.

Isera sighs as she climbs down the stairs into her quarters and tosses the circlet onto her bed. There will be time to try again later.


	10. Chapter 10

Solas and Isera had been spending more time together since the Winter Palace. Solas would stop by the clinic. He offers suggestions to improve her potion making skills. More often than not, they explored the Fade together. 

Isera and Solas spent more time in the Fade after he realized that she dreamed with normal vision. He helps recreate the places they have traveled. Isera finds him enchanting. He possesses such bravado, intelligence, and confidence. Even with his more problematic worldview, Isera continuously attempts to show him a different perspective.

Isera finds enjoy when she sees his eyes light up with intrigue and his face when it flushes red.

She glances around the dream with a smile on her face. “The Winter Palace?” Isera laughs. The spirits are masquerading about replaying the events at the palace.

“Yes. This place holds importance to you. You showed your ability and skill to the Inquisition.” Solas informs her.

“Mmmm, oh yes,” She hums as she wraps her arms around his waist. “I most definitely did.” She teases, referring to that night together. His cheeks flush red at her comment.

 “That’s—not what I meant!” his voice cracks.

She giggles. “I am aware,” She murmurs as she begins nipping at his neck. She can feel his breathing slows as she suddenly pulls back. “Wait!” She exclaims as she looks around in panic. “The spirits know we are here; does that mean…they know?”

A burst of laughter comes from Solas. A real, full body laugh that Isera has not heard before. “Solas, I’m serious!” She exclaims but begins laughing.

His hands gently cradle her face as he leans down to kiss her. He leans his forehead against her. “You change…everything.”  His voice is deep and breathless. His body is relaxed as he wraps his arms around her. Isera smiles as she pulls him closer for another kiss.

\---

Solas is relaxing in her bed reading an ancient text when Banreas calls to her from the clinic. “We are upstairs.” She answers as she walks down to the clinic. “What?” she asks.

Banreas sits down on a bench. “Have you heard from Mom?” he questions as he stares down at a piece of paper. 

“No, why?” She shakes her head as she sits next to him.

“Someone named Lorenzo wrote to you and says she’s gone” He waves the letter around. Banreas hands her the letter.

Isera stares at the blank, gray page. “Yeah, I can’t read that, but it’s not uncommon for her to leave for months at a time.” She shrugs unconcern with the news.

“Ah! Shit. Sorry.” He apologizes.

Banreas nods “Well, at any rate, we will be traveling to the Arbor Wilds in a week time. You’re coming along.” He tells her. He looks up to the ceiling. “You too, Solas!” Banreas shouts.

 “Of course, Inquisitor,” Solas replies.

Isera grins. “How did you know?” She jokes as she sees him out of the clinic.

Banreas chuckles as he departs and Isera heads back upstairs. She pulls the circlet out from her desk and flops into the bed staring intently at it. Perhaps Solas can assist her. “Do you know what this is? I tried activating it, but was unable to.” She tells him.

Solas looks up from his book and places it in his lap. “Let me see,” He tells her.  Isera hands over the circlet as she leans her head on his shoulder.

She watches as he analyzes the object, moving it back and forth in his hand. “Do you know what this is?” He asks.

“A headpiece,” Isera states plainly. Solas gives her a disapproving look. “I was theorizing it helps amplify magic.” She pauses, “The Seers used gems to help with casting stronger spells. I think this stone is a moonstone. I tried casting a spell when the moon was at its highest point.”

“How did you activate it?” He inquires.

He hums in approval. “Clever. Most mages lack the awareness of celestial magic.” 

 “Do you know what this is?” He asks.

 “A head piece,” Isera states plainly. Solas gives her a disapproving look. “I was theorizing it helps amplify magic.”

Solas nods. Isera watches as he inspects the object. “Our people once had great temples of worship. The priests of these temples would wear these to not only amplify their power, but also a sign of power. The gems worn denoted status. The moonstone was rather significant in rank.” He explains.

Isera nods in understanding. “But how do you activate it?” She asks as she looks up at him.

“You did, partially. These objects were designed to become one with the owners. Have you practice magic with it on?” He sounds impressed that she managed to some extent activate the circlet.

Isera stares up at him with concern in her eyes. “Most magic isn’t like that. Is it blood magic?”

Solas glances at her. “What one would consider blood magic depends on where one is raised, wouldn’t you agree?” He answers as he challenges her belief. “One could argue that the Seers are blood mages.”

Isera sighs. “Point taken. But, no, I didn’t use magic with it on.”

“Come here,” He murmurs as Isera moves to sit between his legs. He slides the circlet onto her head. It sits just above her eyebrows. “Go ahead.” He tells her. 

Isera closes her eyes as she begins casting a spell in her mind. She starts pulling at the Veil weakening the barrier. The smalls tears allow a few wisps through. The wisps come squealing out in excitement. Isera opens her eyes to see a surprised, yet unsure look on Solas’s face. 

He lets out a long sigh. “You have been practicing.” He states with disbelief. The wisps float around, speaking in a gibberish voice as they interact with their environment. The knock down some books, squealing in surprise as the books hit the floor with a loud thud.

Isera grins as she repeatedly slaps his thighs with excitement. “I have,” she sounds bashful. Solas dismisses the wisps back into the Fade with the wave of his hand. They depart with a disappointed squeal. 

Isera drapes her legs over his thighs as she plants a soft kiss on his lips. “You are displeased.” She murmurs as she wraps her arms around his neck. She presses her forehead against his.

Solas shakes his head, his nose brushing against hers. “Concerned.” He corrects her. He drapes his arms around her waist.

“I tread very carefully with the spirits, _Solas_.” She informs him as she kisses his cheek. 

“I know, _vehnan_.” He nips her lower lip as he slides her fully into his lap. She hums in approval as she rolls her hips against his. His hands squeeze her hips before sliding them under her shirt. His hands are soft, yet calloused as he traces under her breasts.

Isera begins unbuttoning her shirt as she reclaims his lips again. She slides out of her shirt as she tugs on his. He leans forward as Isera starts lifting his soft cotton shirt over his head. Her fingers trace over the scars he has.

He slides her forward onto his lap as he travels down her chest, nipping gently as he goes. His hand gently cups one of her breasts, rubbing her nipple between his callous fingers. Isera arches back, allowing him greater access. Isera moans as she presses her nails into his forearms.

He pushes her onto her back. His tongue trails down her abdomen as he unstrings her pants. Isera lifts herself off the bed as Solas deftly pulls off her pants. He slides off the bed and onto his knees. In one pull, he drags her to the edge of the bed and places her legs over his shoulders.

Solas flicks his tongue against her clit as his fingers slide into her. Isera quivers in desire as he begins to pumps his fingers. His tongue teasingly circles her clit. He watches her squirm with need before speeding up. He uses his free hand to unstring his pants as he continues to play with her.

He goes faster, and Isera feels her body tighten as she gets closer to the edge. “Solas…” she breathes out as she grips the bedsheets. Isera writhes as he picks up the speed, pumping faster as he feels her tighten around his fingers. Isera moans in pleasure as she comes.

Isera feels dizzy as Solas leans in to kiss her. Isera opens her mouth inviting him in as he slides between her legs. Isera wraps her legs around his waist as he slides into her. Isera moans he begins to thrust into her.

His rhythm is slow as he deliberately teasing her. She bucks her hips to meet him, trying to encourage him to increase the pace. He abides by unspoken her request and begins thrusting faster. Isera mewls in ecstasy as his skin slaps against hers. 

The taste of desire and desperation is in the air as their bodies strive to move faster. Isera's nails are digging into his arms as her body rocks with each push. She feels him swell inside of her as the rhythm and pace slow to a halt. Solas groans as he releases. Their bodies are slick with sweat. Isera leans up to kiss him as she untangles herself from him.

She crawls under the sheets as she lays on her stomach. Solas stretches next to her; both are too hot to touch. Solas reaches over, his fingers lacing through her hair. Isera begins nodding off. “Ar lath ma vehnan,” is the last thing she hears before she falls asleep.

 --

She can’t breathe. Her heart is pounding in her chest as screams echo around her. IT is the kind of horrified screams that are only found on the battlefield.

_Run…run…run!_

Isera feels a hand grab her, pulling her towards something but she fights against it. She can’t hear what they are saying. 

The heat is biting at her skin as she is dragged through the smoky, dark dream. The smell of smoke and ting copper blood fills her nose.

She has no control over this nightmare.

Everything is blurred, and she is struggling to comprehend her surroundings. Fire? She smells blood.

_Da’len!_

Isera jolts awake, covered in sweat. The room is dark with slivers of the early sunrise shining in. Her heart feels like it is about to explode. She feels something pulling at her.

“Isera?” Solas is cupping her face, his hands are cold on her warm skin. “You were screaming.”

“Sorry—I—it—was a nightmare. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Isera mutters as she rubs her eyes. Her hands cradle her face.

Solas begins gently rubbing the back of her neck. He casts a cold spell, helping her cool down. “What did you dream of?”

Her chest feels heavy as she regains her breath. “I’m not sure. I remember…being afraid.” Isera rests her head on his shoulder.

There is a loud knock at the clinic door. “Mistress Lavellan? The Commander is requesting your services. Are you awake?” A servant calls up.

Isera is quick to leave the comfort of her bed and lover. “Inform the Commander I will be with him shortly.” She tells the agent as she begins getting dressed.

Solas watches her as dresses. “Go back to your adventures,” Isera tells him as she walks to him, sitting on the edge of the bed. He softly smiles. “Are you feeling well?” He asks her as he takes her hands. 

“Yes.” She kisses him. “Now go back to sleep.”

Isera makes her way down stairs, grabbing her healing kit before heading to the Commander’s office. The withdrawals must be worst tonight. Cullen rarely calls for her assistance unless he is desperate.

She walks into his office. He is hunched over is desk clearly in pain. As she approaches him, she can see the whites of his knuckles are white has he grips the edge of the desk for dear life. His eyes are shut tight. Isera pulls out a potion and pours less the one fourth of it into a glass. She leans over him to press the cup to his lips. He obediently leans his head back consuming the drink.

Over the next several minutes, his grip lessens, and he moves to sit in his chair. “The potions are taking longer to work,” he mutters. Isera is standing behind him as she massages his temples with her fingers as she casts a cooling spell. “I can make the dosage stronger, but I know you don’t want to take too much of it.”

He doesn’t answer her. “How Mia?” She asks as she continued when he did not answer.

“She’s good. Staying away from the fighting as much as possible. They’ll be heading back to Honnleath soon.”

“Oh good. You should visit them if it’s not too far.” She suggests as she finishes casting her spell.

“The Inquisition needs me.” Isera has noticed that Cullen is overworked by choice. He refuses to give less to the Inquisition.

“And you need to relax. It’ll help. Cassandra can manage the troops.” Isera offers as she continues to massage his neck.

“Corypheus is on the move. Our troops will be needed any day now.” Cullen’s statement is logical and sound.

Isera hums. “Well, I think you should take the time to visit them once Corypheus is dead. Healer’s orders.” She smiles as she steps away from him.

Cullen chuckles at her statement. His face becomes solemn as he glances up at her. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

“You did not wake me up. Feeling better? Less intense?” She inquires as she begins collecting her items.

“It is bearable now,” Cullen tells her

Isera nods as she begins walking to the door.

“Thank you.” Cullen sounds exhausted. “Anytime.” Isera smiles as she makes her way back to the clinic. She can hear the soldiers in the court yard practicing. It is almost time to head to the Arbor Wilds.


	11. Chapter 11

The travel to the Arbor Wilds had been swift as possible with the Orlesian army offering assistance against the assault on Corypheus’s forces. The trek through the forest was littered with Red Templars and strange looking elves. There wasn’t time to ponder about the strange elves, the Inquisition team rushed into the Templar as Commander Cullen fought at the entrance.

The Inquisition team watched on in horror as Corypheus died, but took over the body of a Grey Warden mage. Isera, Solas, Banreas, Cassandra, Cole, and Morrigan had rushed into the Temple of Mythal just as the dragon sent a burst of dark magic. The black magic disbursed on the door of the temple as it is absorbed by old magic that protected the building.

Isera falls against the door her breath ragged from the sudden run. “That was too close.” Isera wheezes.

Banreas looks around in disbelief. “What the hell!” He exclaims, “That shouldn’t be possible!”

“He’s a demon,” Cassandra says with a mixture of disbelief and confidence.

“It doesn’t matter what he is, at this point. We know he is after an eluvian here. We need to start moving.” Banreas announces as he begins walking down the hall of the temple.

The magic here is centuries old and vibrates into her core. Isera rubs her eyes. She can see bright, glittering gold. It feels as though her vision is trying to return, but everything is blurred.

“Isera are you feeling well?” Cassandra asks. She is closer to Isera, as to not alert the others and her voice is hushed.

“Yeah, it’s—just—I’m not sure what it is,” Isera replies as they walking into the courtyard of the temple. The others are ahead of them unaware of Isera’s struggle. “It’s fine. Let’s catch up with the others.” Isera dismisses the concerns as she motions to Cassandra to follow.

Morrigan stares in awe at the center of the temple. “This is…the Temple of Mythal. Mythal is the—“

“We know who Mythal is!” Isera and Banreas snap in unison. This is the third time Morrigan has attempted to explain elven history to them. Morrigan scoffs but continues to walk around.

In their stumbling, they discover a crumbling Fen’Harel statue. “Why would this be here?” Morrigan ponders. Her eyebrows are pulled together in contemplation.

Solas straightens up, almost in defense. “Something wrong?” He inquires, his voice on edge.

Morrigan nods as she continues to stare at the statue. “This figure depicts the Dread Wolf, Fen’harel. In elven tales, he tricks their gods into sealing themselves into the Beyond for all time. Setting a statue of Fen’harel in Mythal’s greatest sanctum is as blasphemous as painting Andraste naked in the Chantry.”

Banreas shrugs unaffected by the discovery. “The Clans set statues of Fen’harel outside the camp to frighten harmful spirits.”

Morrigan hums in disappointment. “Perhaps. I thought the ancient elves above quaint superstitions.” She turns to walk away as Solas calls out to her.

His voice is harsh. “For all your “knowledge,” Lady Morrigan, you cannot resist giving legend the weight of history. The wise do not mistake one for the other.” He tells her with disdain. His eyes are narrow and sharp as he glares at the witch.

Morrigan scowls at his statement. “Pray tell what meaning does our elven “expert” sense lurking behind this?” She asks.

“Nothing by just staring at it!” Solas coolly responds.

Banreas ignores their biting conversation as he turns to Isera. “Hey!” He calls to her with a grin. “ _Da’fen_! Do you wanna blow this statue up too?” His grin a broad and goofy, like when he was younger and more carefree.

Isera rolls her eyes and places her hands on her hips. “I’m going to blow you up,” Isera mutters as she tries to hide her grin. Banreas laughs, knocking shoulders with her as they head back down the stairs.

“With your fancy crown?” He quips referring to the magical circlet on her head.

Isera eyes him. “Well I need to test it out somehow,” She responds.

Together the twins walk onto the center pedestal, the squares reacting with pressure by glowing blue. Banreas is staring at the engraved words on the pillars. “It’s ancient elven. I can’t make out much. Can you read this, sister?” he asks as Morrigan approaches from behind.

Isera stares at the words. Her vision is blurred, but she can see the glow of the old elven words. Morrigan is quick to push her aside as she realizing the magic in the temple is still active. She stands in front of the scripture, muttering to herself.

Isera takes a step back at the sudden violation of space. She watches as Solas instinctively reaches for her. Isera shakes her head as she stands next to him silently communicating her annoyance. Despite her blurred vision, she is able to make out some of the words.

Solas raises his voice. “ _’Atish’all Vir Abelasan_.’ It means ‘enter the path of the Well of Sorrows.’” He studies the reaction of Morrigan carefully.

“There is something about knowledge. Respectful or pure. Shiven…shivennen…” Morrigan sighs with exaggerated movements. “’Tis all I can translate. That it mentions, the Well is a good omen.” She states. 

Isera eyes the witch with suspicion as she shakes her head towards Banreas, mouthing ‘ _She’s lying.’_

Banreas acknowledges her sister with a short nod. “We’re out of luck unless one of those temple elves drops a lexicon.” He states plainly as he turns to walk away. 

Isera eyes Morrigan warily. Isera can see parts of the faded writing, but there is something that is off about the inscription and information being given by Morrigan.

Morrigan begins nodding to herself as she processes the information around her. “Supplicants to Mythal would have first paid respect here. Following their path may aid entry.”

Cassandra stiffens at the idea. “Surely we will not go through with this nonsense? The Dalish—they are wrong!” She blurts out. There a moment of regret in her eyes as Banreas stares silently at her.

“Why, because it’s not _your_ God that we are following? I could argue that your Maker is utter nonsense!” Isera sneers and challenges the Seeker. Her instinct is to protect her brother and his beliefs.

Cassandra sputters for a moment. “You—you don’t even believe!” She exclaims.

“I don’t have to believe to respect that my brother does believe.” Isera hisses, her blood feels hot as she glares at Cassandra.

Everyone is silent as Cassandra and Isera stare each other down. “Come on,” Banreas finally breaks the painful silence unwilling to say more. The team walks through the previously sealed door to watch Samson dash through a newly formed hole in the wall.

“Come on!” Banreas yells. “We might catch them.”

Morrigan slides to a stop, her hands out halting everyone. “Hold a moment! While they rush ahead, this leads to our true destination. We should walk the petitioner’s path, as before.”

Isera nods. “Banreas, I say we follow the path—this is our heritage.”

Solas agrees as well claiming that the ancient ground is deserving of respect. Cole wants to follow Samson to save the Inquisition soldiers.

“Inquisitor, you see the urgency. We cannot find the Well of Sorrows unprepared.” Morrigan emphasizes as she pulls her hands together.

Isera glares at her. “You are very eager to reach our destination.” She presses as she moves to stand next to Banreas.

Morrigan scoffs feeling offended. “Are we not all eager to stop Corypheus from achieving his mad plan?” she responds.

Banreas shakes his head, unmoved by Morrigan’s attempt at distraction. “It sounds like what you want is the well.” He states as he crosses his arms. “Isera, what did the witch leave out from the inscription?” He asks.

Isera looks at her brother before turning back to look at Morrigan. “The Well will bestow a gift onto who use it, but at a great, personal price. _Halam’shivanas._ The sweet sacrifice of duty.”  Isera shares, her eyes unmoving.

“Your real goal is the power inside of the Well.” Banreas follows up.

 

Morrigan releases a frustrated sigh. “Yes! I did not reveal all that I read. I seek to restore and preserve the power of the Well. Corypheus would seek to destroy it. My priority is the Inquisition, but if the opportunity arises to save this Well, I am willing to pay the price.” She states, throwing her arms in the air.

Isera glances at Banreas. _“Another thing that shelmen would take from the elves. Do not trust her.”_ Her elven is fast and bitter. Even those who could not understand elven could assume what Isera was saying. 

Morrigan sneers. “I can understand you!” She howls.

 

“I know,” Isera responds. She glances at Banreas, jerking her head for him to follow her to the parishioner’s path.

 

\---

 

They walk further into another chamber. Morrigan looks around in awe. “’Tis not what I expected. What was this chamber used for…?” She trails off.

Isera feels pressure on her shoulders as they walk further into the chamber. The air is crackling with magic and shifting of armor. Blurred, hidden figures move against the Veil. “We are not alone here, Ban,” Isera mutters as she looks behind.

 

Six clouds of smoke appear, revealing the similar looking elves that they saw in the forest. “We’re being watched.” Banreas response as he stiffens.

A figure walks across the balcony above them. “ _Venavis_.” He bellows. His cloaked head tilts. “You…are, unlike the other invaders. You have the features of those who call themselves elvhen. You bear the marks of magic which are...familiar.” The figure pauses, dropping his hands to his side.

“How has this come to pass? What is your connection to those who first disturbed our slumber?” he asks.

 Banreas opens his hands, a gesture of openness. “They are my enemies, as well as yours.” He announces.

 

The figure nods in understanding. “I am called Abelas. We are Sentinels, tasked with standing against those who trespass on sacred ground. We wake only to fight, to preserve this place. Our number diminish with each invasion.” He walks to the side, eyeing the group. “I know what you see. Like all who come before, you wish to drink from the _Vir’Abelasan_.”

Morrigan whispers to her brother. “’The place of the Way of Sorrow.’ He speaks of the Well!”

 

Abelas sneers. “It is not for you. It is not for any of you.”

Banreas stares at Isera, unsure of what to say. Isera coughs. “So…you are elves from ancient times? Before the Tevinter Imperium destroyed Arlathan?” Isera asks as she steps forward.

 

Abelas shakes his hand. “The shemlen did not destroy Arlathan. We elvhen warred upon ourselves. By the time the doors to this sanctuary closed, our time was over. We awaken only when called, and each time find the world more foreign than before. It is meaningless. We endure. The _vir’abelasan_ must be preserved.”

Isera looks behind to Solas. “Solas?” She murmurs.

 

He gives her an exacerbated look. “What shall I say, Isera?” He answers. “Shall I sway him from millennia of service by virtue of our shared blood? He clings to all that remains of his world because he lacks the power to restore it.”

 

Banreas shakes his head. “What is the _vir’abelasan_ , exactly?” He finally asks.

 

“It is a path, one walked only by those who toiled in Mythal’s favor—more than that, you need not know.” He is short with his answer becoming impatient.

Isera scoffs, not accepting the answers. “Our People of have lost everything. They need you. They could learn from you!” Isera exclaims.

 

Abelas sneers at her outbursts. “’ _Our’_ people? The ones we see in the forest, shadows wearing vallaslin? You are not my people.” He points accusingly at her. “And you have invaded our sanctum as readily as the _shemlen_.”

 

“We knew this place was sacred. We took steps to respect the sanctum as best we could.” Isera responds defending their actions.

 

Abelas nods in agreement. “I believe you. Trespassers you are, but you have followed rites of petition. You have shown respect to Mythal. If these others are enemies of yours, we will aid you in destroying them.” He pauses, staring them down. “When this is done, you shall be permitted to depart…never return.”

 

“This is our goal, is it not? There is no reason to fight these Sentinels.” Solas almost begs. His voice sounds pained at the idea of attacking the elves.

Morrigan glares at Solas before looking at Banreas. “Consider carefully. You must stop Corypheus, yes, but you may also need the Well for your own.”

 

“You mean, _you_ want the Well’s power, Morrigan. I’d rather we preserve this place than readily hand over our history to a shemlen, regardless if _they_ see us as one of the People.” Isera crosses her arms, glaring at Morrigan her eyes flickering up to the Sentinels. These Ancients might not consider modern elves as one of the People, but Isera does. Isera seeks to protect them regardless. 

 

Morrigan snarls in response. “It is up to the Inquisitor.” She declares.

Banreas nods. “I accept their offer.”

 

“You will be guided to those you seek—as for the _vir’abelasan_ …it shall not be despoiled, even if I must destroy it myself.”

Morrigan cries out as she shapeshifts into a raven in a cloud of purple and black smoke. She flies after Abelas, who ran out of the room. Isera moves to follow about to cast a spell to changes forms as well, but Banreas calls out to her.

“Don’t. We need the assistance here. The Ancients can handle her, I’m sure.” He tells her.

Isera grunts in displeasure, but follows the group as they are led by another Ancient. “ _Mythal’enaste_.” She says as she begins walking away.

 

Banreas grumbles. “That’s helpful since Morrigan chased off on her own.” He glances at Isera.

 

“I think she said Mythal’s blessing—go with Mythal’s favor?” Isera shrugs as she follows.

 

Solas nods. “She seeks to protect the Well of Sorrows.”

 

\----

 

The fight with Samson was quicker than expected. The amulet created by Dagna greatly reduced his power, and the Sentinels were allies against him.

A low-flying bird shoots by them as Samson falls. “Morrigan!” Banreas shouts as he turns to chase after her. Abelas is hot on her trail, calling forth stones that lead up towards the well.

Morrigan turns to her humanoid form in front of the well, ready to fight for it. Abelas is stuck between her and the Inquisition team.

“You heard his parting words, Inquisitor. The elf seeks to destroy the Well of Sorrows!” Morrigan exclaims as she stands protectively near the edge of the Well.

Abelas backs away, his head shaking in disgust. “So the sanctum is despoiled at last.” He sneers.

“You would have destroyed the Well yourself, given a chance.” Morrigan accuses.

Abelas points at her. “To keep it from your grasping fingers! Better it be lost than bestowed upon the undeserving!” He accuses.

Morrigan glares. “Fool! You’d let your people’s legacy rot in the shadows!” She howls in anger.

Banreas steps between them again. “Enough!” He demands. Morrigan turns to him. “You cannot honestly—“

“I said, _enough_.” His voice is harder than before.

Morrigan pauses, looking at Abelas. She takes a deep breath, regaining her composure. “The Well clearly offers power, Inquisitor. If that power can be turned against Corypheus, can you afford to not use it?” She asks.

Abelas shakes his end in disbelief. “Do you even know what you ask? As each servant of Mythal reached the end of their years, they would pass their knowledge on…through this.” He motions to the Well. “All that we were, all that we knew, it would be lost forever.”

Isera looks at Abelas, stepping closer to him. “Abelas, it is already lost…” She murmurs as he turns to stare at her.

He sighs reluctantly to accept the reality of the statement.

“There are other places, friend. Other duties. Your people yet linger.” Solas announces from the edge of the steps, as though he is creeping from the shadows.

Abelas steps back, staring back and forward between Isera and Solas. “Elvhen such as you?” He asks staring at Solas.

Solas nods. “Yes. Such as I” he confirms.

Abelas looks away in contemplation. “You have shown respect to Mythal, and there is a righteousness in you I cannot deny.” He says. “Is that your desire? To partake in the _vir’abelasan_ as best you can, to fight your enemy?”

Banreas nods. “With your permission.”

Abelas chuckles, shaking his head. “One does not obtain permission. One obtains the right.” He tells them. He pauses, stepping further back. “The _vir’abelasan_ may be too much for a mortal to comprehend.” He nods towards Banreas. “Brave it if you must, but know you this: you shall be bound forever to the will of Mythal.”

Morrigan chuckles. “Bound? To a goddess who no longer exists, if she ever did?” She challenges.

“Bound, as we are bound. The choice is yours.” He announces.

“Is it possible Mythal still lives?” Banreas asks Abelas.

Abelas tilts his head, looking back at him. “Anything is possible.” He smirks.

“Elven legend states that Mythal was tricked by Fen’Harel and bashed to the Beyond,” Morrigan announces. Isera rolls her eyes at her. The human repeating elven legend to an Ancient.

Abelas stares at her, his eyes narrowed. “’Elven’ legend is wrong. The Dread Wolf had nothing to do with her murder.”

Morrigan looks at him in surprise. Isera, shocked by the statement, turns to look at Solas. His face is stoic and unmoving at the announcement.

“I—I said nothing about murder.” Morrigan stumbles out.

Abelas nods. “She was slain, if a God truly can be. Betrayed by those who destroyed this temple. Yet the _vir’abelasan_ remains. As do we. That is something.” He turns and rests against a nearby tree, observing the group.

Banreas looks to the mages in the group. He offers the power of the Well to Solas first, who unflinchingly refuses. Morrigan sighs in frustration. She wants to be the one to drink from the Well, but Banreas is stalling.

Abelas watches them discuss who should drink the well.

Isera is staring at the Well when it dawns on her. “It’s a geas,” Isera announces, still staring at the Well. “It’s not just knowledge—it’s the will of the priest.” She pauses to look at them. “Don’t you hear the voices?”

They all look at her in shock followed by a chorus of denials. “How would you know such a thing?” Morrigan accuses.

Before Isera can answer, Abelas steps closer to the group. “You hear them,” he asks Isera, his voice even but curious. “What do you hear?” He asks her.

Isera hesitates to answer him. She stares at the Well and concentrates to the quiet whispers rising from it. “They are all speaking at once.” She concludes as she is unable to make out words.

Abelas approaches her. He does not say anything but continues to stare intently at her.

Isera blinks rapidly in discomfort before looking at her brother. “Banreas, it’s a compulsion. If you were to drink the water, you would be compromised. If you are compromised, so is the Inquisition.” She informs him.

“This is why I should be the one to drink it.” Morrigan huffs her patience at an end as she once again offers to drink from the way. “I have been studying elven lore for this purpose.”

“I’ll do it.” Isera offers. “It is my heritage after all.”

Morrigan scowls and releases a grumble of anger but does not say anything else.

Banreas pauses, thinking it over for a moment.

Solas is swiftly at Isera’s side. “Please, listen to me, _vehnan_.” He begs, his voice is faint. “You do not know what you are asking.”

Isera looks at him. “I know, but would you see the power of the Well given to someone who is not one of us?” She responds. She grabs his hand. “If we do nothing, we risk Corypheus obtaining the knowledge. You know, we can’t risk Banreas.” Isera whispers. She pauses squeezing his hand. “We all must make sacrifices, no?”

Her vision is still blurred with a mixture of seeing the Veil and seeing the real world. She can see the pain in his eyes. But Solas does not continue.

 Isera steps away, and closer to Abelas. “Abelas, you can come with us. Fight Corypheus. He killed our—your people.” Isera offers. She could learn so much from him if he chooses to come with them.

He shakes his head in rejection of the offer. “We killed ourselves, long ago.” He responds with sadness as he turns to leave.

Solas looks at Abelas. “ _Malas amelin ne halam, Abelas_.” He says as Abelas walks by him. Solas turns back to Isera but does not explain what he said.

Isera looks at Solas before she turns to proceed into the Well. The water is glittering with every step forward. She kneels down cupping her hands together and drinks from the well. The water is cool down her throat. Isera feels her body and mind expand as she feels that she is engulfed in flames.

Everything is dark and cloudy when she opens her eyes. The whispers are louder than before. They are speaking at the same time in words that sound gibberish. “Hello? Can you help us?” Isera calls. The voices are unclear and chatter loudly with nonsensical words.

“Please, the world is in danger! I will pay the price for your help.” She begs the voices. A lyrium blue wisp slams into her chest as the air pushed out of her. She feels her body glowing with the newly obtained power.

_Isera? Isera!_

Her body is shaking. Solas and Banreas are on either side of her, gently moving her body and tapping her face. “Can you hear us?”

She isn’t sure who is saying what. “Yeah…yeah.” She mutters as she pulls her body up, groggy as if she napped for too long.

“Isera… your eyes…” Banreas murmurs in awe.

“I know…” Isera replies she looks around to see the gray Veil is no longer shielding her vision. She can see. It isn’t as overwhelming as last time, but she doesn’t have a chance to think about why she can see. Her head is hurting.

“How…?” Banreas wonders as Solas and he assist Isera back onto her feet.

Isera pauses, shifting through the voices and her own thoughts. There isn’t time for more questions. The inner door of the wall is thrust open.

_Corypheus._

Isera blinks in horror at the darkspawn magister.

She yelps in surprise as she looks at Banreas. “Wow, he is ugly. Why do I have to see the ugly things when I can actually see?” She complains referring to the Fade during Adamant, “Why can’t I just see the nice, attractive things first?” Isera moans as she throws her arms in the air. “Why can’t he be nice looking? Why couldn’t we have an attractive bad guy?”

 

“Isera!” Her brother snaps at her harangue. “Not now!”

Corypheus screams in rage at the sight of the well being depleted of its magical ability.

The water of the Well swirls with magic as it rushes forward encasing the Inquisition team.

“Please tell me that’s you,” Cassandra asks, her sword and shield drawn in defense as she stares in fear.

 

“Not me,” Isera answers in shock as she spins around looking at the enchanted water. The water pulls away from them and forms a women’s silhouette. It gestures to the eluvian behind them.

Isera turns and waves her hand, motioning the team to run.

The voices are telling her how to open the eluvian. Her hand glows with magic as the eluvian reawakens. “Through the eluvian!” Isera yells as she dashes forward. The members quickly follow suit as Corypheus dashes forward to attack.

The members of the Inquisition ended up back in Skyhold, and Corypheus does not or is unable to follow.

Isera feels hot as she collapses onto the ground in the prayer room. The voices in her head are screaming as everything fades to black.


	12. Chapter 12

Isera hears the chattering of the voices around her. Her mind feels heavy like something is weighing it down. The voices from the Well make it challenging to think and process information, let alone hear her own voice.

Isera tries to force her heavy lidded eyes to open. _Real_. The voices she hears are from her environment rather inside of her head. Isera groans in pain. The voices in her head are unobtrusive at the moment.

Isera’s eyes flutter open as she tries to maintain an awareness of her surroundings. Through blurred vision, Isera realizes that she has sustained her vision thus far. She is in the Inquisitor’s room. 

 

“Isera?” Her brother calls, his hand clutches hers. “Are you okay? How are you feeling?” He is standing next to her, eyes filled with concern.

Isera nods as she looks at him. “Okay, I think. How long have I been asleep?” Isera yawns as she tries to sit up. Her body feels weak, her arms struggling to support the movements.

 

“Two days.” _Solas_. Isera recognizes his voice. She blinks rapidly as she looks for him.

He is standing at the foot of the bed. Isera glances up at him. His face is unreadable as he stares down at her. After a moment, a small yet caring smile appears on his face. 

Banreas stands up. “I’m sorry…I just came to check in; I’m in between meetings.” Banreas tells her as he leans down to kiss the top of her head. “I’ll have the servants send up tea and those frilly cakes you like.”

 

Isera nods wordlessly as Banreas leaves the room.

Solas moves to sit closer to her, staring intently at her. “How are you feeling?” he questions as he takes her hand into his.

Her body feels heavy, and her mind is foggy. “Groggy,” Isera replies with a smile as she squeezes his hand. Overall, she appears fine, given recent events.

 

She watches as his body becomes tense. He shoulders are pulled back, his blue-gray eyes narrow with irritation. “I begged you not to drink from the Well. Why could you not have listened?” His voice is harsh and distressed. The grip of his hand is tight around her fingers as he presses harder. 

 

“Solas…” Isera murmurs. He’s upset that she didn’t listen to him.

He shakes his head as he looks down. “You gave yourself into the service of an ancient elven god!” He appears incredibly disappointed with her.

Isera is absorbing his words. “Meaning…?” She finally caves, allowing him to explain to her what he believes to have happened.

 

For her, it does not matter. Her role is to assist her brother—if that meant drinking from a magically based source with unknown effects to defeat an enemy, then that is what she would do—what she did do. This action has affected Solas to the extent that Isera does not understand.

He grimaces. “You are Mythal’s creature now.” He whispers. “Whatever you do, whether you know it or not, will be for her.” He pauses. “You have given up a part of yourself.” His sounds…broken at that idea. Isera watches the anger fade to sadness and concern.

Isera scoffs, shaking her head. “ _We_ don’t even believe in the Gods!” His emotions feel unjustified and misplaced. The Gods, even if they did exist, no longer live. The creation of the power and who it theoretically would be linked to is moot.

 

His eyebrows come together as he glares at her. “I don’t believe they were gods.” He argues. “But I believe that they existed. Something existed to start the legends. If not gods, then mages…or spirits…or something we’ve never seen. And you are bound to one of them of them now.” He concludes. He implies that his argument is straightforward and obvious.

Solas sighs, his face softens. “I suppose it’s better that you have the power rather than Corypheus.” He looks down then back up at her with a slightly hopeful look on his face.

 

“What will you do with the power of the Well once Corypheus is dead?” He questions.

Isera feels overwhelmed at the sudden change in emotions. She hesitates before answering. “I will help with the change. The world will be unable to return to what was normal before the Mage and Templar War and the Breach. The only way to go now is forward.” She answers as thoughtfully as she can.

He continues to stare, his eyes unmoving upon hers. “You’d risk everything that you have in the hope that everything is the future is better? What if it isn’t?” He’s glowering at her, awaiting her response. She feels the intensity of his stare as she casts her eyes down. “What if you wake up and realize the future you shaped is worse than what was?” He continues.

 

Isera freezes at the intensity of his emotions. She feels that his emotions are out of place, but does not question him.

She rubs her lips together. “I am surrounded by allies and friends. I would seek out those I knew to try again, of course.” Her answer is simple.

He looks bewildered with her response. “Just…like that?” he says. He leans back at the idea she suggested.

 

Isera nods. “Well, if we don’t try then we won’t be able to make things right.”

He leans back, eyes still fixated on her. The look in his eyes appears to be relieved to hear her response. “You are right. Thank you.” He tells her. His hand is still laced with hers, almost painfully so.

Isera looks at him with confusion. “Okay…but for what?” She asks. Isera concludes he is acting strangely. She knows him for being passionate about history and legend—but this feels different than his usual argumentative nature.

 

“You have...impressed me.” He answers. “You offered hope that if one keeps trying, even if the consequences are grave, that someday things will be better.” He smiles and appears vindicated in his thoughts.

Isera stares at him oddly. _What is he talking about_? Isera thinks.

Solas looks down in thought. “Forgive my melancholy. Corypheus has cost us much. The Temple of Mythal did not deserve such a fate. The orb he carries, that at least may be recovered. The past may yet survive.” He tells her.

 

Isera eyes him with discomfort. “You are being grim and fatalistic in hopes of getting me into bed, aren’t you?” She jokes with a rigid grin. She resorts to humor to change the subject.

He chuckles. “I am grim and fatalistic. Getting you into bed is just an enjoyable side benefit.” He replies with a slight grin. Isera looks at him in surprise before giggling.

Suddenly, Solas is standing up, attempting to pull Isera out of bed. “Come with me, _vehnan_.” He demands, gently pulling at her hand.

Isera scowls and shakes her head no. “Oh, no, no, no.” She snaps.  “There is a servant about to come up those steps any moment now. I am not leaving until I have my tea and frilly cakes.” She tells him.

 

Isera watches as Solas looks down at her in surprise, obviously not expecting for her to say no. His cheery demeanor pauses for a moment.

Isera gives a sarcastic chuckle. “Trying to tell me what to do when frilly cakes are involved. Sit back down, _now_.” She mutters to herself.

“After you tell me what has happened in the last two days and I have ` one cup of tea and a good portion of frilly cakes, then we can leave.” She orders him to sit down.

 

Solas pauses, almost confused at her demand. Then he smiles at her. “My apologies. I will ensure you have had your full of frilly cakes.” He tells her.

\---

Solas and Isera traverse into a small cavern that is illuminated by the soft moonlight. She stares up at the grand statues of Dalish Harts that are covered in green and herbaceous vegetation. Isera takes her time as they walk, focusing at the fresh, dewy green grass, graveled gray, dark stone, and the stars in the sky. She is nervous, wondering if she blinks too much or too little, will her vision become gray once more?

Regardless, she can still see the Veil pressing upon the world. It is like a stool of glittering, translucent, gossamer fabric that is cast over an object. There a gentle sparkle laced over the world.

Isera feels protected with him.  Solas has an ability to draw her in with his insatiable curiosity, desire to learn, and share knowledge. By no means is he perfect. She had listened to him become condescending to those who did not wish to hear his thought and made unfavorable comments against others.

Nevertheless, he is rough around the edge, but passionate and caring. With proper guidance, he made strides in an attempt understand others—to view them more than the stereotypes. She can sense that he feels deeply—Isera feels like she could drown in him.

 

She smiles at her own thoughts as they come to a stop by the water’s edge.

“The Veil is thin here. Can you feel it on your skin, tingling?” He asks with a small smile. Isera nods, looking around.

 

“I can see it, too.” She replies with a grin as she looks up at him. His hand brushes against her cheek. She leans her head into his hand. Isera looks up at him—her heart feels swollen and warm, it is almost hard to breathe. She is happy with him.

Solas is gazing at her, a smile on his face as he analyzes her features. “I was trying to determine some way to show you what you mean to me.” He pulls his hands back, letting them trace her shoulders and arms traveling to her hands.

 

“I can offer a few suggestions,” Isera replies coyly, adding pressure her grip.

He chuckles, his eyes darting between her eyes and lips. “I’ll bear that in mind.” He says, pausing before continuing. “For now, the best gift that I can offer is…the truth.”

Isera stares up at him earnestly, yet confused by his statement. She does not know what he means.

 

“You are unique. In all of Thedas, I never expected to find someone who could draw my attention from the Fade. You have become important to me, more important than I could have imagined.” He begins, his nerves showing through the slight changes in his voice.

She smiles. “As you are to me,” She responds, still waiting for his admission.

 

He looks down before making eye contact once more. “Then what I must tell you…the truth.” There is a slight frown on his face.

Isera maintains her guarded smile unaware of what he might mean. _He's dramatic_! She thinks.

He looks away again, his eyes darting back and forth.

 

“You care greatly for the elven people, and for your brother.” He states. His voice is smooth at this statement. Isera’s eyes narrow in confusion at his proclamation but does not interrupt him.

 “The vallaslin …I have seen them in my journeys into the Fade. I have discovered what those marks mean.”

Isera stares at him, extremely confused to why he is bringing up the vallaslin, even though she is not marked with the Dalish markings. His voice feels awkward despite projecting confidence.

 

“Our People use them to show honor for the Gods.” She answers her voice monotone.

He shakes his head. “No. They are slave markings, or at least, they were in the time of ancient Arlathan.” He tells her.

Isera frowns in denial. “The Keepers shared that those markings honor the Gods. They are symbols of rebellion and hope to the people. _We are the last of the Elhven. Never again shall we submit_.”

 

Solas agrees. “That is only partially right. A noble would mark his slaves to honor the god he worshiped. After Arlathan fell. The Dalish forgot.” His voice is quieter than his usual pride damnation of the Dalish.

Isera looks down, shaking her head. “No-that doesn’t—how did we…we couldn’t have forgotten. We…were no better than Tevinter?” She mutters out.

“I’m sorry.”

 

Isera takes a deep breath, withholding the desire to cry. She straddles the worlds of knife-ear and flat-ear, never fitting into both. She had been raised apart from the Dalish by a Dalish Keeper, but away from the Alienage of the cities.

 

She’s a facade for both elven worlds. Too Dalish for the Alienage and too city elf for the Dalish.  Isera grew up on stories and legend, in search of the history of her people as commanded by her mother. Isera has walked the path of the city elf, the trials of an elven mage, and the trails of the Dalish—but none of these are her.

There are no writings about slave markings in elven history.

 

“We try to preserve our culture. And what we preserve are slave markings? We might as well be Tevinter.” Isera sighs, her voice shaking in defeat.

 

Solas reaches for her shoulders, holding them tight. “Don’t say that.” He commands. “For all they got wrong, the Dalish did one thing right. They made you.” His smile is soft and sweet. “I didn’t tell you this to hurt you.” 

He pauses in thought. “I can teach you a spell. You can have the ability to fix what the Dalish forgot.”

 

She is tearful as she stares up at him. “How do you convince someone the sky isn’t blue?” she jokes. The saying she told him when he shared his story about his experience with the Dalish. The Dalish cling tightly to the remnants of what little history they have possessed. The vallaslin, in the Dalish minds, honor the Gods who are trapped in the Beyond.

 

Regardless of what they meant in ancient times, would the Dalish be willing to have their beliefs challenged by her?

 

His fingers are under her chin, tilting her head up to look at him. “I am sorry for causing you pain. It was selfish of me. I look at you and see what you truly are…” He pauses, his eyes flickering down. “…you have passion for preserving the past and to learn more. You can show the Dalish what the markings truly represent.”

Her head is spinning with information—something is off. She doesn’t understand why he thinks this information is important, but it is, in some way?

 

“Then teach me.” She finally responds feel obligated to do so.

“Come, sit.” He guides her gently, leading her to the edge of the water.

 The spell he shows her is simple. He practices the movements with her until she completed them correctly on her own. Solas teaches her the chant of the spell until she pronounces every word correctly.

 

He practices on her one more time—his hands glide over her face as if he would be removing the _vallaslin_. He drops his hands, staring into her eyes. “You are so beautiful.” He murmurs. Isera smiles and laces her fingers into the leather strap of his necklace. He pulls her closer as he leans down to kiss her.

The kiss is soft and gentle. His arms wrap around her waist, pulling her closer as she pulls on his necklace. His finger traced down her spine, and resting on her backside. He gently squeezes her ass as he lifts her into his lap. Isera moves too hastily, and Solas is thrown off-balance, landing on his back.

Isera gasps in surprise as she straddles him. “I’m so sorry!” She laughs. She kisses him on the nose before sliding off of him.

 

He stands, assisting Isera to her feet. He is smiling at her—she feels like she is being consumed by his gaze.

Suddenly, he pulls away. His face contorts from being relaxed and content to concerned. “And I am sorry. I have distracted you from your duty. It will never happen again.” His voice is hard, yet broken.

 

Isera leans back in surprise and confusion. His face hardens as he steps further back, away from her.

“Solas…” She whispers as she reaches to pull him closer. He evades her grasps.

 

“Please, _vhenan_.” He almost sounds like he is begging her.

Isera looks around, almost in a daze after his declaration. “I don’t understand…” She tells him.

 

“Please, you have to trust me.”

Isera looks around in a panic, looking at everything and nothing at the same time. This doesn’t make sense. She feels pulled apart from her body, an outside observer watching their interactions. He’s supposed to tell her that he loves her.

“Tell me you don’t care.” She whispers as she finally looks him in the eye.

“I can’t.”

With every step closer to him, he takes a step away from her. “Tell me that you didn’t mean anything that you said. Tell me that I was a casual dalliance. Tell me, _vhenan_.” Her face contorts in anger, but her voice is broken, showing her pain and sorrow.

“I’m sorry…” He whispers. “I didn’t—” He coughs, turning away. “We should get going.”

Isera stares at him in disbelief. “You didn’t—what? Oh, wait, you aren’t going to tell me are you?” She shouts as tears begin to form in her eyes. He bows his head in shame.

Isera barks out a pathetic laugh. “Go ahead. I’ll find another way back.” She tells him.

“Isera…” he pleads.

She turns away from him so he cannot see the tears beginning to stream down her face. She chokes back a spoke as she cast a spell. A gulf of white-blue smoke surrounds her. 

He watches as a raven shoots out of the magical residue and into the sky leaving him alone with his thoughts.


	13. Chapter 13

Isera is laying in her bed, exhausted from her flight back to Skyhold. Her eyes are swollen and red, her head is pounding and nose congested from crying. She still does not understand why Solas took her to the cavern only to break up with her. Something doesn’t feel right, but she is unable to figure what it is. 

Banreas ascends her stairs. “Isera?” He calls as he round the banister. He looks at her with concern. “What is going on? I received reports that Solas arrived without you…and I have no report on when you returned?”

He halts, staring at her. “…Have you been crying?” He questions. He stands awkwardly in the middle of her room.

 

Isera focuses on the ceiling. ‘Do not cry…do not cry…’ She thinks to herself. “I…he…we broke up.” She carefully chokes out, blinking back the tears that are threatening to rise. “I chose another method of returning back to Skyhold.” She informs her brother.

Banreas looks away, unsure of what to do. “Why did he…?”

 

Isera shakes her head, tears falling from the corners of her eyes. “’In another world…’” She mutters, mimicking what Solas had told her.

 

Banreas begins pacing about her room. “He can’t do that!” He declares at the audacity of the idea. “He didn’t give you an explanation?” He asks, crossing his arms with a deep frown on his face.

Isera shifts in the bed. “No—he went to tell me about how he felt about me…” She pauses, finding the words. “And then he said that the vallaslin were slave markings from Arlathan!” She tells him. “And then he broke up with me! It didn’t make sense!” Tears stream down her face as she buries her head in her hands.

 

“Wait, what?” Banreas questions. He is confused by her description of the events. “He took you to Crestwood, to tell you about the _vallaslin_ …and break up with you?” Banreas kneels on the edge of the bed.

 

“Ban—everything was fine,” She sobs. “It felt right. He felt right. He wasn’t making sense. It doesn’t make sense.”

 “What an ass.” Banreas hisses. He pulls Isera closer. “I can send him away if you want. Or have words.” He tells her. “Perks of being the Inquisitor.”

 

Isera forces a sad smile. “That’s okay. You don’t need to do that.” She tells him.

Banreas hums in thought. “Okay—but we can go to the Emerald Graves, and we can tell him we found something ‘ _elvhen_ ’ by that giant Fen’harel alter we found, right?” Banreas elaborates with a grin. “And we can make it explode! And then we can tell him that he’s cursed by Fen’harel for hurting you!”  He concludes with excitement.

 

Isera cries out in a mixture of a sob and laughter at the ridiculous notion. Banreas is trying to make her smile.

“You're ridiculous.” Isera giggles, rubbing her eyes.

 

“My idea is perfect.” He announces. “I think…I think I am going to tell the cook to make frilly cakes that are inspired from the Gods. Just so I can feed them to Solas and say since he acts like he's a god, he should be full of them! 

Isera snorts. “He’d act so unamused by your antics.”

 

Banreas continues to grin as he schemes. “Sera can prank him! She can paint _vallaslin_ on him!”

“Banreas—“ Isera frowns. “You don’t need to do any of that.”

 

“I want to do something.” He emphasizes. Isera can tell that he wants to protect her and validate her. Avenge the pain she is in.

“You are.” She tells him. “We are adults. And, as much as I want to hurt him as he has hurt me…I want to be the better person, yes?” She gently punches his arm.

 

He hums, “I think we need frilly cakes.” He announces as he moves from the bed. “Frilly cakes make everything better.” He grins as he rushes out of her room to retrieve frilly cakes.

\---

The next day, Morrigan is requesting Isera’s presence in the garden. Isera reluctantly agreed—she didn’t have an interest in socializing, especially with the witch.

Isera’s heart feels heavy. She takes the longer route to avoid the atrium where Solas is usually found. She walks the ramparts near the tavern and passes the soldiers who are sparring. She ascends the steps into the great hall. Isera spots Solas talking to Varric. The hairs on her neck stand as she feels panic fill her body.

 

Varric spots her, waving her over with a grin. Isera shakes her head as she skitters away from the pair without looking back. Isera can hear Varric ask Solas what was going on as she rounds the door to the garden.

She makes her way into the prayer room that is still decorated with his murals. She is anxious and unhappy. She pushes open the door. “What do—“

 

 

“Isera!” Leliana shouts, interrupting Isera. The eluvian is active, shimmering with magic. 

“Morrigan says Kieran ran into the eluvian! I’ll get the Inquisitor!” as she dashes out of the room before Isera can ask questions.

 

Isera stares back and forth between the eluvian and the open door unsure if she should follow the spymaster or run into the mirror.

Isera grumbles as she glares at the mirror, bubbling with magic. “I do not want walk into the mirror of death.” She mutters. “I don’t want to. I’m not—“ She pauses releasing a frustrated cry. “There’s a kid in the damn mirror. Why don’t people watch their children. Just tie them up! That’ll solve ev-ery-thing.” Isera mutters bitterly.

 

Isera rushes forward into the eluvian. The magic ripples around her as she transported into... _the Fade_?

 

Isera spots Morrigan. Morrigan’s eyes are filled with unadulterated panic and fear. “Go back!” She orders Isera. “Kieran!” She calls. “I need to find him!” Morrigan rushes out in desperation.

Isera sighs. “Okay, okay.” She confirms. “It’ll be easier to search together. Let’s keep moving.” Isera opens her hands to show submission and an attempt to be amiable as she walks by Morrigan. The Fade looks as it did during Adamant—illuminated green and spooky.

 

“Kieran!” Isera calls as they round another corner. She hates that she is in the Fade again. Memories of the Nightmare are returning with each step. He knew her fear of not fitting in—straddling the worlds of city elf and Dalish elf. He said that she was out of place, out of time. 

Finally, Morrigan spot Kieran standing…with someone? Isera frowns as they rush forward. She is unsure if they are in danger. The woman kneeling in front of Kieran.

 

Morrigan sneers, glaring at the older woman. “ _Mother_.” the word is bitter and acidic off of Morrigan’s tongue.

Isera jolts in surprise. She looks between Morrigan and the woman by the boy. “I take it this family reunion was not planned?” Isera jokes, her body tense, and voice tight with awkwardness.

 

The woman grins with chuckles. “Mother, daughter, grandson. It rather warms the heart, doesn’t it?” The woman states as she stands. She appears unaffected by the chaos she has caused for Morrigan.

The two begin to bicker, but Isera is focusing on the boy. He glows, just slightly, with old magic for someone so young. This is the first time Isera is laying eyes on the boy.

 

“You will not have me, and you will not have my son!” Morrigan howls as she casts a spell. A green light encompasses her arms in preparation. The woman who claims to be Morrigan’s mother frowns.

“That is quite enough. You’ll endanger the boy.” She demands, then looks at Isera. “Be a good lass and restrain her.” She orders with a calm voice.

 

Isera feels hot as she is jerked roughly to the side. Her arms are forcibly wrapped around Morrigan, pulling her down towards the ground. Isera yells in surprises as she has no control over her body or actions.

 

“What are you doing…what are you doing?!” Morrigan shrieks as she pushes Isera off of her. 

“I don’t know!” Isera exclaims as she pulls herself up from the ground. The tingling of magic is slowly fading away, and Isera feels that she is in control of her body once more.

 

The woman chuckles again. “You know quite well. You drank from the well, did you not?”

Isera stares at the human woman. The world feels slow around her as she processes the statement made. “You are…Mythal.” Isera whispers in awe. She pauses, feeling uncomfortable and unsure. “Uh,…it is nice to meet you…” She says out of politeness for the God.

 

Mythal grins glances to Morrigan. “Now those are manners, girl.” She informs her. “You clearly require a demonstration.” Mythal pushes Kieran forward, giving him permission to return to his mother. He rushes to his mother without looking back. 

Mythal shares that the essence of Mythal is only a fraction of what she once was and that she has been carried on over the centuries. Mythal challenges her to consult the voices, and they confirm the truth.

 

Mythal sighs in content. “But what was Mythal? A legend given name and called a god or something more?”

 

Mythal turns to Isera smiling. “So young and vibrant. You do the People proud and have come far.” She pauses. “I have gone by many names…but you may call me Flemeth.”

Isera straightens at the name. “ _Asha’bellanar._ The woman of many names. You are her, too.” Isera pauses recalling the stories her mother shared. Isera frowns, staring at Flemeth. “If Mythal is a part of you, why haven’t you helped the People. There are those who call to you, pray to you…” She trails off.

 

Flemeth looks to the side, a frown crossed her face. “What happened could not be changed.” She tells Isera.

“What about now?” Isera asks. All Isera has known is her attempts to obtain and retrieve elven artifacts. Isera has walked through the Circles, traveled across most of Thedas trying to collect fragments the history of the People. If Mythal could return…it would change everything.

 

Her face hardens as she looks at Isera. “You know not what you ask, child.” It is clear the God would not entertain the idea.

 

Isera nods unwilling to pursue questioning her more. Morrigan, on the other hand, continues to challenge Mythal until the god turns away. Isera watches as Mythal took an essence from Kieran.

“So long as the music plays, we dance,” Flemeth announces, pushing her grandson towards his mother, and turns to walk away.

 

Morrigan tries needlessly to call after her mother, demanding her to stay. She lets out a cry of frustration. “Let us go, Kieran.” She whispers after her mother disappears.

\---

The following day the Advisors had called Isera to the War Room to talk strategy. Morrigan, despite Isera’s recent assistance, is quick to berate her for drinking the Well. Isera groans with exhaustion. Morrigan is continuously seeking out arguments. Isera can hear the voices telling her how to defeat Corypheus, but Morrigan will not let her speak.

 

Isera rolls her eyes as she spaces out, her gaze fixated on a window. Morrigan is a ranting,  concerning her lack of ability to use the power. The voices have given Isera specific instructions on how to find what they need, but each time Isera opens her mouth, Morrigan’s rant rages on anew. 

“Shut up.” Isera finally demands, her tone hard and unwavering. She turns to look at the Advisors. “We need a dragon.” Isera shares. She glances back to Morrigan who is frowning.

 

“And you know where to find one that will fight on our side?” Morrigan hisses.

 

Isera slowly nods. “Yeah. I do.” She states, her voice low and slow to be condescending. “But you aren’t invited along.”

Isera turns to leave the War Room her head pounding from Morrigan’s bickering.

 ---

It is time. It felt as though the whole world shook when Corypheus made his move. It was a day after Isera, her brother and a team of Inquisition members secured a dragon who is the Guardian of Mythal.  The dragon would come with Isera called her for, but only once. That was the deal the voices offered.

 

Isera had rushed down into the atrium as fast as she could after it felt that Skyhold would fall apart at the seams. Commander Cullen had already rushed to rally the troops. Isera around the corner of the atrium to see Solas standing with his back to her, collecting his armor.

“Solas!” Cassandra calls, rushing into the atrium. “The Inquisitor is ordering you for Alpha team, the team directly assaulting Corypheus.” She informs him. Cassandra jolts in surprise at seeing Isera.

 

“Isera!” Cassandra exclaims. Solas turns, startled she is there as well. 

“Thank the Maker I have found you. The Inquisitor is requesting your assistance with--” Cassandra begins to tell her.

 

“No.” Isera is quick to inform the Seeker as she tries moves to past the her.

“What?” Cassandra mimics her movements, blocking Isera from walking away. Cassandra’s eyes narrow in confusion, followed by displeasure crosses her face.

 

“Take Dorian or Vivienne. I will stay with the ground troops.” Isera tells her, her arms crossed in defiance. Isera does not to go into battle alongside Solas, as childish as it sounds. She had been avoiding him since that night, and she does not have what the first moment she spends with him to be fighting a darkspawn magister.

“The Inquisitor gave you order.”

 

“I don’t care.”

Cassandra looks unimpressed. She pulls her shoulders back, slowly walking towards Isera with a smirk on her face. Isera is able to tell that Cassandra is attempting to intimate her. “You _will_ be coming, and you _will_ your brother destroy Corypheus.” She _kindly_ informs her.

 

“I certainly _will_ not.” Isera smiles, unwilling to agree or give in.

Cassandra continued to smile as she turned on her heels. “Solas.” She departs.

 

Solas blinks, glancing at Isera. “Of course, Seeker.” He responds before walking away appearing unaffected by recent events.

\---

Isera is hiding behind a pillar as Corypheus sends along blast of magic, screaming something about being all-powerful. She dashes out as she lifts a barrier over Cassandra just before he sent another attack. She frowns as she pops open another vile of lyrium.

Banreas and Solas are running defensive with Corypheus beckons his minions as Isera and Cassandra are offensive. Isera had more skill in healing, protecting and recently focused her skills on being a knight enchanter.

 

Isera is constantly having to heal and protect Cassandra, who is maintaining the brunt of Corypheus’s attacks. After the minions are at bay, Banreas jumps into fighting with a blast of arrows. Corypheus yells in pain as the arrows burst in his chest. 

As the would-be god becomes weaker and weaker, he begins to desperately calling out for assistant from Old Gods.

 

Corypheus attempts to use the orb against Banreas, but Banreas reacts quickly to the threat. He had begun to gain control over the mark and thus when Corypheus attempted to manipulate the power, Banreas used it against him.

Banreas approaches the magister, a sneer across his face. “You wanted into the Fade?” Banreas remarks as the mark glows a bright green. Isera watches in a mixture of awe and fear as Fade opens up inside of Corypheus, slowly tearing him apart from the inside out. His body denigrates as magic consumes his form.

 

As the last lifeblood of Corypheus is consumed by the mark, the rocks that were being held in the sky by Corypheus’s power had begun to fall down, slamming into the ground. Isera screams as the team scattered about, dodging the falling debris. Isera trips over the rubble, landing on her stomach. She groans in pain as she struggles to get up again.

“ _Vehnan_!” Solas is behind her, grabbing her arms and dragging her across the ground and over a ridge. He presses her body against the stone, as he uses his body to protect her from the rest of the falling debris. The stones stop falling as they both open their eyes to look around.

 

Isera watches as Banreas makes his way to check on Cassandra, who had taken most of the damage from Corypheus. She feels Solas pull away, rushing to where the orb is laying, now broken.

She pauses unsure if she follows him. He looks heartbroken as he picks up the pieces of the orb, running his fingers over the edges.

 

Isera sighs as she walks to him, dropping to her knees. “I’m sorry… we can try to fix it.” She whispers as she tugs at his arm. He does not look at her.

He makes a pathetic effort to chuckle. “It will not be the same.” He informs her, looking up at her. “It was not supposed to happen this way.” The pain on his face is evident.

 

Isera looks at him feeling his pain. “Solas…” she whispers. “I know you wanted to save the orb…” she puts pressure on his arm. 

He stands up abruptly, pulling away from her. His head is cast down, and he adverts looking at her. “No matter what comes, I want you to know we had was real.” He tells her as he walks towards where Banreas and Cassandra wandered to meet the members of the Inquisition without glancing back at her.

 

Isera sighs, holding back the tears that wanted to fall. She stares down at what is left of the orb that he had left behind. She shakes her head as she collects the pieces of object and stuffs it into the small bag at her waist. He has become insufferably vague since that night.

Isera glances at him as he stares down at the Inquisition. Isera walks by him, turning toward him. “ _Ar lath ma, vhenan.”_ She whispers. She reaches out to him one more time, her hand squeezing his shoulder lightly before she walks down the steps.

 

There was a grand celebration after the defeat of Corypheus. Isera had forced a smile on her face as she anxiously scanned the room for Solas. He had not returned to them. Leliana pulls her away, leading her into the atrium.

“It appears Solas has left. I have sent agents to look for him.” Leliana informs her. “He did not leave a note behind…” she pauses, “he left this.” Leliana hands Isera the jaw bone necklace that Solas often wore.

“I know you two were close.” She shares. Isera nods without answer the spymaster. She traces the aged bone, focusing on controlling breathing. Isera knew he would not return.

Months have gone by since the closing of the Breach. Solas had disappeared without a trace, not even Leliana’s agents could find him. Not long after, Isera was gone. No one knew where she went…or did they?


	14. Chapter 14

The wooden caravan shakes with every step of the horses that pull it. It has been an hour since Cullen left Skyhold to visit Honnleath to visit his family. It has been over four months since the defeat of Corypheus and he had been working tirelessly despite the death of the magister.

 

Cullen had sent troops to monitor the movements of fleeing Venatori and to protect villages. Leliana and he had coordinated movements in search of Solas after his disappearance without success.

It has been a two days since Isera was announced as missing, but the Inquisitor insisted that he depart to Honnleath and the Cassandra was filling in until he returns. No one would question the Commander’s departure after the sudden disappearance of the Inquisitor’s sister if it was publicly seen he was ordered to go. 

Cullen glances around. He does not see anyone following him. “I think you can come out now, just keep your head covered.” Cullen nervously announces, rubbing the back of his neck.

 

A trunk behind him shifts, the lid squealing open as a figure rises from the container. “I am never doing that again.” The figure mutters as she climbs into the front seat, adjusting her cloak.

Cullen shakes his head. “Isera, you didn’t have to leave like that. You had a choice.” Cullen informs her. He glances towards her, his hands gripping the reins of the horse.

 

Isera shakes her head. “I don’t want people knowing.” She answers cryptically. She leans back, wrapping the cloak closer to body.

He sighs and nods in understanding. “I know.” He hesitates, as he looks away. “I am sorry. Mia will help, though. You will not go through this alone.” He tries to comfort her in his own way.

 

He pauses. “Do you think it is the voices telling you to go?” He asks. 

Isera shakes her head. The voices have control of her body when they so desire, but not her mind. They share knowledge, when they require. “I do not think so.”

 

Isera smiles but it feels forced. “Thank you for letting me stay with your family.” She replies.

Isera watches as the trees as they slowly trot passed. She can’t place her desire for wanting to hide. Perhaps, she is running from the memories formed at Skyhold or the voices are silently influencing her.

 

Cullen coughs out of discomfort of being thanked. “You have…being extremely helpful. This is the least I can do.” He answers as he snaps the reins. The horses being to trot faster.

Isera nods. “There is a stack of the potions hidden in the chest by your desk. Only drink one fourth of it. The ones with the green ribbon are more potent.” She informs him. “Only drink that when you begin to notices a tolerance developing. I do not foresee that happening, but I won’t be there to monitor you.” She had planned this for a month in advance and Cullen had been kind enough to assist her.

 

It did not take much to convince Cullen. He had been the one to offer for her to stay with his family. Honnleath is close enough to Skyhold that she would be able to return quickly or her brother to come see her. Cullen described his sister as open and protective, assuring her that Mia would welcome her into their hearth.

Banreas hadn’t been happy with the arrangement, but agreed—not that it mattered, Isera would go with or without his blessing. 

“The Inquisitor will not be able to write to you directly, if you wish to remain hidden. I can write to Mia and Mia can write back, if that is what you wish.” Cullen takes a deep breath. “You set a motion into plan that will be hard to explain if our letters or intercepted.”

 

The caravan rocks her body. “I know.” She whispers. “We can do that.” Isera wishes that she felt that she could stay, but she didn’t. There is a weight off of her chest since they left the confides of Skyhold.

“Leliana has ordered Inquisition agents to become integrated into the town. They will come under the guise of farmers. They will watch from afar.”

 

Isera nods. “I know.” Always watching, always protecting. She would not be alone in this journey. 

There is something that is shaking her very bones is telling her to go into hiding.  Her nightmares are becoming more vivid with each passing day, but are unclear in their meaning. Banreas had contacted the Seers in Rivain about the contents of the dreams. The Seers only said it was ominous, perhaps of something to come.

 

Isera yawns as she places her hand on her swelling belly. Things are continuing to change.

\---

_Isera is pacing in her brother’s quarters at the realization that she has not bled in almost two months, possibly more. She had never paid attention to her cycle she did not realize how late she was. Solas was impossible to find. He_ needed _to know. When Banreas finally comes to meet with her, Isera is on edge._

_Before Banreas can greet her, Isera blurts out, “I’m pregnant.” Her body shakes with anxiety. She continues to pace around the room, tears streaming down her face, unsure of what to do._

_Banreas slowly nods, his mind thinking of what to do. “How far along?” He asks, his voice low. His face is neutral as he walks to his desk._

_Isera shakes her head. “I’m not sure.” She answers. “Maybe two months…maybe longer.” Isera whispers._

_His body movements are stiffening as he looks at his sister. “There are potions…if that is what you want” He gently suggests._

_Isera pulls back at the suggestion, shaking her head no at the idea. “No!” She yells, then she hesitates. “I don’t know. If I take something now, without knowing how far along I am, I could kill myself and the child.”_

_Isera had seen too many young girls on her travels that accidently took their own lives to end the one growing inside them._

_Banreas grimaces. “Have you heard from…him?”He asks. His voice is harder, trying to remain neutral, but Isera knows him well. He is furious. His hand is clenched tightly in a first as he rests his body against the desks._

_Isera shakes her head no. “Can you…I know it’s a lot to ask. One last time, can you send out agents to look for him?” She begs him. She had fruitlessly tried to reach him in her dreams. She was not as skilled as he was at being a fade-walker. Even when she used his necklace as a connector object she was unable to find him—she’d run into magical barriers every time she felt she was close._

_Isera had theorized that he is actively trying to block her from his subconscious._

_Banreas nods. “Of course, I will.” He pauses, shifting through reports again. “I haven’t heard from mother since we received that letter. Have you?” He asks._

_“No.” Isera answer. “It is unlike her to be gone this long.” Isera confirms._

_Banreas sighs. “I’ll send agents to look for her as well.” Banreas states as he walks up to his sister. The fear on her face is evident._

_A month later, the agents failed to produce results on the locations of Solas and their mother. Isera continued, pointlessly, to find Solas in the Fade. She feels exhausted. Banreas sits across from her in the War Room. The Advisors know about her pregnancy. They stare at her helplessly without the desired results._

_It is clear that the Inquisition had used all avenues to search from them._

_Isera sighs. “I want to leave. I don’t want people to know that I am pregnant or where I am going.” She announces. Isera had just begun to show—this is the perfect time, if not the only time she will be able to leave without attracting attention._

_Leliana nods. “If that is what you would like, it can be arranged for you to disappear.” The spymaster looks to Banreas. “Banreas will need to play a part if that is to be.”_

\--- 

Isera stands over the hearth attempting to breast feed her newborn. She is sleep deprived and frustrated. The baby girl is refusing to latch onto her nipple. “Why can’t you be like your big sister and nurse?” Isera pleads.

Mia laughs from a nearby chair holding the other baby, who is resting peacefully with a full belly. “She is going to be a stubborn, that one.” She comments. Mia walks to Isera. “What will you call them?”

 

Isera hums thoughtfully. “This one is Viera.” Isera replies as Viera finally latches on. “And she,” Isera motions to the other child. “Will be Sora.” Their skin is soft and looks like freshly made caramel and scattered in freckles.

“How will you tell them apart?” Mia jokes as she coos at Sora. Sora is easy to please and so sweet. Mia watches as Sora opens her big eyes, revealing one golden iris and one blue.

 

“Oh, their eyes.” Isera looks at Mia. “Sora’s right eye is golden and left eye is blue. Viera’s right eye is blue and left eye is golden.” Isera shares with Mia.

Every time Mia has come to check in on her, the twins were sound asleep. But Isera has had many sleepless nights staring into the eyes of her daughters. Namely, Viera who is a difficult sleeper.

 

Mia looks at her in surprise. “Surely, you are joking?” She leans over to the nursing child who opens her eyes on occasion. “Ah! She does!” Mia gasps at the discovery before grinning. “They are going to be quite enchanting.”

Isera smiles as she sits down in a rocking chair, her body finally relaxing as Viera continues to nurse.

 

“The Inquisitor will be making a visit in the coming weeks with Cullen.” Mia informs her, pulling out a letter from her gown’s pocket. “He is excited to ‘meet the new calf’” Mia grins at the hidden meaning.

Isera laughs, rolling her eyes. “I _still_ hate that I was dubbed as a horse in the letters!” She announces. She bawled her eyes out the first time she read a letter referring to her as a mare.

 

Mia chuckles as she places Sora into the bassinet. “Blame Cullen!” She tells Isera. Mia tosses in the potatoes into the boiling stock over the fire.

“He is terrible awkward sometimes.” Isera laughs as Viera has her fill. The child burps and gives a content coo as she squirms closer to her mother.

 

“Oh, I am well aware.” Mia confirms as she stirs the stew.

\---

Banreas is sitting across from her holding Viera. He coos at her. The twins are six months old. Banreas has been telling them the stories of his most recent adventures. Viera stares up at him with a broad, toothless smile and babbles in responds to what he says.

“And Leliana is going to be the new divine!” He ends with a smile. “You will need to meet your Auntie Cassandra soon, _da’len.”_ He coos as Viera takes ahold of his finger, placing it into her mouth.

 

Isera has Sora strapped to her chest as she pours water into cups. “She’ll have them ramming drakes in no time.” Isera jokes as she sets a cup near Banreas.

Banreas laughs. He glances up at her. “You should come back sister. They will want to meet them.” He suggests, again. Isera had continued to refuse to return to Skyhold. Each time is a different excuse.

 

Isera frowns. “Maybe when they are a year old.” She tells him. “I do not feel comfortable leaving just yet. They are too young.” Isera responds.

Banreas looks skeptically at her. “The Dalish travel with children much younger.” He knows his sister is avoiding the memories. He just wants her to create new memories with those that would help keep her safe.

 

“I don’t care.” Isera stares at him her voice monotone. She knows she is being difficult. Isera knows it will be easier back at Skyhold. She would be surrounded by friend and guards. The girls would always be watched and safe. Not a single member of the Inquisition’s inner circle would let harm come their way.

“Isera.” He sighs.

 

She looks down at Sora who is content against her chest, eyes staring off into the distance. “Maybe.” Isera finally says after a moment of awkward silence.

\--- 

Isera is sitting in the clinic at Skyhold watching as most of the inner circle are fawning over her daughters. One-year-old today. They speak simple words, but engage with the inner circle nicely. Leliana, who has is leaving to become Divine soon, is holding Sora. Leliana is singing to her.

 

The girls adore listening to Leliana’s songs. Isera smiles at recalling how Leliana would refuse to sing her songs of her stories. Now, she hasn’t stopped singing since Isera stepped foot in Skyhold. 

Viera is more rambunctious than her older sister. She talks to others in non-sense syllables, to which everyone pretends to understand. Iron Bull is probably the best at talking to Viera. He becomes extremely animated and changes his tone often, which Viera adores.

 

Banreas is sitting next to Isera. “Will you take them to the Clan?” He asks. “We can ask the Clan to come here.” He offers. Despite the knowledge Isera has shared about the Dalish failings, Banreas wants his traditions to be passed to his nieces.

Isera shakes her head. “I have overheard that Lavellan Clan is doing well in Wycome. I do not wish to move them. The elves will need the political power.” Isera being trained to become a decent player of the Game. Briala of The Dales, has reached out to her on multiple occasions seeking a stronger elven alliance.

 

Banreas nods. “That is a good point.” He watches as Cassandra picks up Viera. Cassandra is awkward with the toddler, but she clearly enjoys the interaction. Blackwall helps the Seeker, showing her how to hold the squirmy child. “Mia says your nightmares are coming more often. Have you been able to make sense of it?” Banreas asks.

“No,” Isera sighs. “It’s the same thing. I’m being pulled from something. There is smoke, fire, and fear. Someone always calls out to me.” They have continued all these years. Isera has made many attempts to block the dream, but it always returns. Each breaking of her block, the dreams come stronger, faster, and harder. It is painful for her to wake up some days.

 

He frowns, but knocks shoulders with her. “I’m glad your back.” He whispers. “And so are they.” He motions to the inner circle. 

He is right. The moment that the inner circle received wind that Isera “was found” they all flocked to her when she arrived in Skyhold. Of course, the Advisors had to sit everyone down and explain that she was not truly lost. That lead to a few awkward conversations and many apologies from Isera for her secrets.

 

“They just want to see the babies.” Isera grins. She continues to watch as those closest to her fawn over her daughters. But she cannot help but feel a pang of sorrow that pulled at her heart for the one she wishes for the most to meet them. _Solas._


	15. Chapter 15

It has been two years since the defeat of Corypheus. The political wind has changed. Ferelden wants to disband the Inquisition, while Orlais wants the organization to remain, with strings attached.

 

Divine Victoria had been forced to call for an Exalted Counsel. Thus, triggering the invitation for the return of all the members of the inner circle. Isera left days before her brother at the request of Divine Victoria. While the offer had been formal, Isera knew it is due to The Most Holy really wanting to see the twins.

 

Born from a year of turmoil and chaos her children were the light for those closest to the darkness. Isera is sitting outside of the Winter Palace, watching as her two-year-olds waddled around. Every so often, the twins look back, glancing at their mother before continuing with their conquest.

 

Blackwall is the first to find her. He looks older than before as he sits next to her with a loud grunt. “Lady Lavellan.” He greets her with a smile.

 

Isera smiles softly. “Blackwall.”

 

He shakes his head at the name. “It’s Thom, now.” He states. “I’m trying to…atone.” He does not elaborate, but Isera doesn’t need him to.

 

He walks a rough path for redemption. A loud shriek emits from in front of the pair as Sora and Veira realize who is sitting next to their mother.

 

They rush towards them, babbling with delight at the sight of the bearded warrior. Thom scoops them up with a deep laughter. Veira, as mischievous as she is, tugs on his beard. He lets out an obnoxiously loud yelp, apparently intended to make the child giggle.

 

Isera frowns. “Veira, no.” Isera firmly tells her daughter. Veira grins. “Fun!” she babbles as she does it again.

 

Isera rolls her eyes as Blackwall smiles and makes the noise again. “That one will be a warrior when she’s older. Just watch.” He shares his prediction with Isera. 

Veira acts fearlessly, is headstrong, and passionate even at her young age. Sora is introverted, contemplative, but equally passionate despite her quiet nature. 

 

“By the sun, I hope not,” Isera answers as she stands up. The ringing of the afternoon bell signals to her that is it almost time to visit the Divine.

“Come, girls, let’s go find Varric,” Isera tells her daughters.

 

Thom nods as he puts Veira and Sora onto the ground. “It was nice seeing you.” He tells Isera as he heads to practice his moves with a dummy.

 

The girls squeal at the sound of the dwarf’s name. They both adore his stories and his gifts from Kirkwall. When he would visit at Skyhold Isera would physically have to remove the twins from his lap for them to take their naps.

Varric grins as the twins hug him. Soon her daughters will tower over him. Varric turns to look at Isera, winking at her. She watches as Varric pulls out another figurine for the girls. They grin in delight as they begin to play with the toys.

 

Varric stares at her for a moment. “I’m going to ask a personal question.” He announces. Isera nods, having guessed what his question is about.

 

“All right.” She says.

“Now, you don’t have to answer.” He prepares her, respecting her choices, as always. “But your eyes are that white color again. Do you still have your sight? Like how we see?” Varric asks as the twins run around him with glee.

 

“Surprisingly, yes.” Isera even sounds surprised. “I’m not sure why they went back to the white color. It happened soon after the Breach closed, I think. But I can still see.” She explains.

She woke up one morning, unaware that her the irises of her eyes had been consumed again by the milky white color as before. She only realized it when Banreas began to panic. He had started to apologize profusely before they both realized what was going on.

 

Varric shrugs. “Well, shit. Magic is weird.” He sighs. “Well, I think the Divine would like to see these two.” He grins at the girls who are laying on the ground, dizzy from chasing each other in circles. 

“Leliana is their favorite,” Isera winks at the dwarf. She signals to her daughters it is time to go. They both jump up from the ground, dolls in hand.

 

Varric laughs. “Isera, please! We both know that I am their favorite storyteller, right girls?” He winks at them. The two burst into laughter as they grip Isera’s legs, the toy finding its way into their mouths.

“Noooo!” They say in unison followed by more giggles and shy looks.

 

“Now, ladies, I am offended!” Varric jokes throwing his hand in the air for dramatic flair. His courtier arrives. “You all might want to leave before the joy is sucked out of you too.” He frowns.

Isera shakes her head as she over hears Varric gagging as the courtier talks about the Merchants Guild. 

 

Isera smiles, shaking her head at his antics as she leads the twins to where the Divine is at. Divine Victoria squeals with delight as she sees the two twins approaching. “Pardon me,” she tells the nobles who are speaking to her as she crouches down her arms opened wide.

The twins squeal in equal delight as they run to latch onto the Divine. “Sora and Veira! My loves, how are you?” She asks as she gives them kisses on the cheek. They respond “goooood!” with broad grins plastered on their face, their tiny finger pulling at the Divine’s gown.

 

“They are growing so fast, Isera.” The Divine comments before she glances around seeing who is close by. The Most Holy turns back to the girls “When you are seven, I will teach you a few things about well-placed daggers.” She whispers with a sly smile.

The former spymaster glances up at Isera, who is giving her a disapproving look. “Only for self-defense, of course.” The Divine smiles as she stands.

 

Isera stands next to the Divine. “These two are probably the safest toddlers in Thedas.” Isera points out as she watches them climb onto a nearby couch.

Leliana nods in agreement. “Between Bull’s Chargers, the Inner Circle of the Inquisition, and…well…me, no one would dare touch them.” The Most Holy confirms. “But it still makes them targets. I will see to it that they have escorts during this time.”

 

The Divine waves to a nearby servant and whispers something in her. Soon another elf approaches them with a gentle smile. “Most Holy, I was informed we have two little ones who want to see the litter of nugs?” 

“Oh, yes!” The Divine looks at Isera for approval. Isera looks at the elf. She resembles a mere servant, but Isera knows better.

 

“I am sure the girls will love them,” Isera confirms, giving her permission for the girls to be taken from her sight.

“Oh, good.” The servant takes a knee to look at the girls. She introduces herself to them and then tells them about the nugs. The twins look at their mother for approval. When Isera nods her head, the twins jump off of the couch with a loud scream and grab onto the servant.

 

Isera watches as they disappear into a side down in the Winter Palace.

The Most Holy turns to Isera. “I believe your brother has arrived as well. You should go find him.” She informs her. “And I have to return to these duties.” She pauses. “It's nice to see you again, Isera. You must come visit more often.”

 

“Of course.” Isera nods as she heads to back down the steps. She first spots Cullen with a mabari. He is throwing a stick and commanding the hound to fetch it. The dog does not listen. He grins up at Cullen, his tail wagging with glee as he barks with pride. 

Isera walks up to the commander. “New friend?” She asks as she looks down at the dog. The hound barks at her with delight as if he agrees with her statement.

 

Cullen nods as he strokes the hound. “They said he was abandoned. Another Ferelden stuck in Orlais.” Cullen says, implying that he is stuck in in Orlais. Isera has become close to Cullen over the years. She knows he yearns for a simpler life.

Isera smiles. “Maybe a Ferelden will take him in.” She jokingly pushes against him. Cullen grins. “Well…”

 

Isera can tell that the two are bonded. She just needs Cullen to admit it. “Your nephew will adore him!” Isera adds. 

“I’m not completely sure if Mia will.” He chuckles. Isera rolls her eyes. Mia lived on a farm, the hound would be a godsend.

 

“No one can say no to that cute face!” Isera grins as the mabari barks in response. Cullen looks up at her and smiles. “I believe your brother is with Cassandra on the other side of the courtyard. Also, Mia wanted me to inform you that she misses you and wants you to come visit again.”

“I was just there!” Isera gasps with a smile as she walks away. Mia had unconditionally taken her in when Isera was at her weakest. They were family despite all things. “Tell her I will visit soon!” She answers with a smile.

 

Isera makes her way to where her brother will be taking her time as she looks around the grounds of the Winter Palace. It has been over two years since she first set foot in the Winter Palace. 

Briala waves to Isera makes her way to her. “Lady Lavellan.” She greets her. Briala is wearing her own mask now depicting her title of Marquise of the Dales.

 

“Marquise.” Isera bows her head in politeness. Within the two years since Isera had to meet Briala, the woman had developed a substantial elven presence in the Dales, particularly in the Emerald Graves.

Briala eyes her. “You title suits you.” She compliments her. “Such an audacious reward for assisting with the defeat of Corypheus.”

 

Empress Celene had raised Isera to a noble title after the defeat of Corypheus, as did King Alistair. Isera, up until recently, had ignored the titles as much as possible, particularity after she fled Skyhold. 

“Such as it is.” Isera answers.

 

Briala continues to analyze her a smile still on her face. “Perhaps such a title is in need of something more…” she hums, pretending to be in thought. “Such as land to own and people.” 

Isera’s eyebrows rise at the idea. “Perhaps. Such a cost could be significant.” Isera had begun advocating for the rights of elves both in Ferelden and Orlais. Josie assisted crafting a story to make her appealing for the nobles. 

 

Briala signals to Isera to follow her with a friendly smile on her face. The two look like long lost friends happy to see each other once more. But this is Orlais, and the Great Game never sleeps.

“Perhaps it may be, for others. The Empress has given me land within the Dales to own. None want the elven keep in the Exalted Plains across the river after the massacre during the civil war. They believe the fortress to be cursed.” Briala shares.

 

Isera grins at the idea. “There is one thing I know about humans. They are terrified of curses, especially elven curses.”

Briala laughs. “That they are.” She confirms. “I do not have sufficient man power to fill the castle, but you could.”

 

Isera stares at her without saying anything. The land is barren from the war and is it possible that the Dalish would flock to her. They could rebuild. 

Briala continues. “Rumors have been swirling of the blind elven mage who has walked amongst city elves, the Dalish elves, and those bound to the Circles. They all seek a leader and a place.” Briala glances around, her smile still present. “With my assistance…”

 

An elven servant walks by them, picking up left over trash left by someone else.

Isera keeps her smile. “The change of the winds are quite interesting this year, aren’t they?” She asks.

 

“Quite. Hopefully, they will remain calm as ever. Alas, a storm may come.” Briala answers, glancing at the servant.

“That it may. It might do one well to have strong walls, no?” Isera answers as the servant turns to walk away without glancing at them.

 

Briala smirks. “It is nice to see you, Lady Lavellan. We should do this more often.”

“Of course!” Isera smiles as she turns, walking away in search of her brother.

 

 Isera turns the corner and sees him sitting on the stairs next to Cassandra. She watches as Cassandra walks away. Banreas stands up and turns to walk up the stairs. He looks upset.

“Brother?” Isera calls to him.

 

Banreas looks at his sister as he walks to her. He looks agitated, his body is stiffer than normal, and he is scowling. “Do you think I would make a good husband?” He abruptly asks as he stares at her

Isera blinks. “I—what? Are you getting married?” Isera glances back to Cassandra who is looking out towards the horizon. The Seeker was once a closeted romantic. If there was a proposal, Cassandra is oddly mellow about it.

 

He looks behind before continuing to walk ahead. Isera follows him. “No. She doesn’t want to get married.” Banreas makes a frustrated noise. He shakes his head. “Do you think it’s because I’m a Dalish elf?” He asks.

“Never mind, don’t answer that.” He waves her off. “I have to the attend the Council.”

 

Isera silently follows her brother into the hall where the Divine, Arl Teagan, and Cyril de Montfort waiting. The talks began quickly. Most of the speeches are mere posturing for Orlais and Ferelden. An hour into the discussion, an agent approaches Banreas.

He is quick to excuses himself at the shock of the court. Isera is confused by his actions and hurries out of the hall trying to catch up to her brother. She quickly realizes that there is an area being held off by the Inquisition guard and that she is unable to follow.

 

He is gone for a few moments before he emerges again. His face is neutral as if nothing happened. “We have a slight problem, and I need your help. Can you get Iron Bull and Cassandra?” He whispers before dashing away again.

\---

Banreas informed them of the discovery of a dead qunari and an active eluvian. They walked into the mirror only to be transported to the Crossroads. Banreas shared he had been to another section of the Crossroads once before with Morrigan.

 

“Woah…” Isera mutters as she looks around. “It is…beautiful here.” She adds. Banreas points to the bushes of flowers in awe. Everything is far more vibrant than anything she has seen. The sky is dancing with colors, and the flowers gleam with the essence of magic. Even the stone beneath their feet sparkles with old magic.

Banreas plucks a flower from the bush. “Do you see this? How are plants living here?” He asks as he twirls the stem of the flower between his fingers.

 

“What are you talking about? All I see is gray and dead plants.” Cassandra announces looking around in confusion.

“Yeah, Boss, all I see is gray.” Iron Bull adds as they follow the trail of blood that leads into another eluvian.

 

Isera and Banreas stare at each other, unsure of what to say. “The elves created this place, perhaps it affects us differently than other races,” Isera suggests.

It leads to an elven ruin in the mountains. Almost everything has been well preserved. They cross the bridge to see spirit warriors in the shape of elven form.

 

 _“Atish’all vallem, Fen’harel elathadra.”_ They speak in ancient elven with a thick accent that no one can understand. The only word that Banreas can understand is Fen’harel. Isera stares at the spirit guard as the voices work to translate the words in her mind. 

“ _Neuvas mana helanin, dirth bellasa ma!”_

 

“Isera…” Banreas whispers as the spirits become impatient.

“Ahhhh!” Isera cries. “ _Ar-melana dirthavaren. Revas vir-anaris.”_ She finally says as the voices tell her what to say. 

The spirit nods, stepping away, “ _Amae lethalas.”_

 

Banreas looks at with eyes full of questions.

“It was part of a ritual. A secret greeting for those…Fen’harel trusted…” Isera pauses looking at Banreas. “The Well of Sorrows knew this…would that mean they were close?”

 

Banreas looks confused. “I don’t like this.” He plainly states as they move forward.

\--- 

They are at an elven ruin in a mountain range. They had successfully slaughtered the qunari who were occupying the building. Banreas points to a mural on the far wall.

“It’s showing the removal of the _vallaslin_ ,” Isera states as she touches the wall. Cassandra comments on how this has gone untouched for Maker knows how long.

 

“But how did the qunari get here and get access to these magic mirrors?” Bull asks, he growls in frustration due to the lack of contacts on his end. He is in the dark as much as they are.

Isera wanders back to the bunks and begins sifting through the bedding. She discovers a codex. “I think we have another person in play.” She calls out as she rereads the note.

 

“This letter says that they were attacked, but couldn’t understand anything except for the name Fen’harel,” Isera adds as she hops off the bed handing the note to Banreas.

Banreas nods as he takes the codex, reading it. “We need to inform the Council.” Banreas states. He looks back up at the Fen’harel statue in the middle of. “Is, this involves magic. Which thing do we need?”

 

Isera grunts in disgust. “The third veil fire lantern one is more heavily enchanted than the others.” She points to it.

 

Banreas grins. “ _Da’fen_!” he whispers, just loud enough for her to hear.

Isera glares at him as she throws a harmless orb of energy at Banaras. He yelps in surprise but cackles. Isera lights the lantern. The statue moves, revealing a hidden stairwell.

 

“Hey, Isera…” Banreas grins his voice higher than normal, more playful despite the issue at hand.

“Don’t you dare!” Isera yells know what he is about to say.

 

 _“Do you wanna blow this statue up?”_ He says quickly with a broad grin knowing his sister absolutely wishes the joke would die.

“Ugh!” Isera jumps down into the stairwell to escape her brother’s antics.

 

Her eyes scan the room as she realizes she is not alone. “Enemies!” Isera exclaims as she throws a fireball at the qunari. She hears her companions rush down the stairs to assist her. When the final enemy is cut down, the team makes their way back through the eluvian to the Winter Palace

 


	16. Chapter 16

Three times they entered into the eluvian from the Winter Palace. Each time Isera found a codex that she kept hidden from the others. The compulsion of the voices telling her to wait before sharing.

They had to travel underground and to an old, destroyed elven library. The library had been the hardest for Isera to leave. The Fade had been an integrated source for the library…so much had been lost. Isera collected as many books as she could. Old habits—taking from places of knowledge for her own gain.

 

_“We must find the past to protect the future. Only then will we grow.” The echoes of her mother’s voice fill her head._

 

Banreas decided to inform the Arl Teagan and Cyril de Montfort of the threat. Isera is sitting with her daughters when Banreas comes into the room. His mark is getting worse and worse even if he plays off the pain.

Isera is struggling to keep the magic contained. She isn’t Solas who had been able to prevent the mark from consuming Banreas all those years ago.

 

Isera is sitting in a dayroom in the Winter Palace watching as the twins play with the servant. They turn when they hear the door open.

“Uncle!” The girls squeal as Banreas walks into the chamber. He forces a smile as he bends down to hug them. “Sora, Veira!” He replies, kissing them on the top of their heads. They begin to babbles as he looks at Isera.

 

“We are about to go through again. We are close to stopping the qunari. Will you come?” Banreas asks as he watches his nieces play together. Isera isn’t sure if she should go. She is worried that the qunari will come for those in the Winter Palace.

Finally, Isera takes a deep breath. “They are safe here. I will come.” She tells him as she stands up. It pains her to leave them with such a large threat. Isera turns to the elven girl. “Perhaps the girls need more friends to play with?” Isera offers.

 

The servant looks up. “Of course, my Lady. I will send for our favorites. They have such a way with the young ones.” Isera smiles as she walks towards the twins.

 

She pulls them closer to her. “ _Maeme_ will be back soon.” Isera whispers to them as she leans to kiss them.  The twins grin up at her as the turn to chase after the nugs. Isera takes a deep breath, holding back the tears that were threatening to fall.

Isera nods to herself as she turns and walks out of the room, her children’s laughter filling her ears.

\---

They had reached the stronghold that the qunari are using. Isera climbed up the tower to see if there is anything else for them. She sees another mural with a note tacked to it:

 

**_…believed to be a self-portrait of Fen’harel._ **

****

Isera stares at it. “No…” she mutters in disbelief. Everything begins to make sense in her mind from the codex she had discovered to their time together. She gasps out as she places her hand over her chest. Hidden beneath her armor is the jawbone necklace he used to wear. He feels closer than ever before.

Banreas is calling for her, asking if she found anything.

 

Isera shakes her head. “No, sorry.” She lies. “There is nothing else here. Let’s move further.” Isera stares at the mural once more. She can’t tell Banreas. Her chest hurts and her head is spinning, but the voice confirm her fears.

\--

They freed the dragon that the Viddasala but still have to fight a qunari mage that broke free of his chains and high on the potion called Dragon’s Breathe. Banreas’s mark is unstable and keeps discharging magical energy that impacts everyone with its bursts.

 

Isera has been trying to dodge the discharge as much as she could while still trying to protect Banreas from the damage. They are near exhaustion when Isera realizes the only way to defeat the Saarebas is to use the magic to consume the beast by the Fade.

Isera rushes up behind her brother, grabbing his hand as she supports his weight against her body. She uses her magic to manipulate the mark, causing the Fade to rip open in the Saarebas.

 

Isera feels the heat of the magic on her skin as she brings her barrier close to her brother. Her hand burns with pain as if her flesh is being engulfed in flame as Banreas collapses onto the floor, the mark slowly draining him of his life.

“We have to go.” Isera doesn’t skip a beat, forcibly pulling him up. “We have to save him.” She begs. He gives her a confused through the droopy exhausted eyes.

 

“Isera.” Banreas groans as he pulls himself up. She helps him walk to the eluvian. “Please…” she whispers as they cross over. The mirror seals itself behind them.

“What is going on…?” He chokes out as Isera practically drags her brother up the hill.

 

She can hear his voice. _Solas_. She pulls Banreas along, trying to contain the magic that is building up in his hand. She can see _him_. She watches as he turns the Viddasala into stone without looking at behind him.

Banreas makes it a few more steps before completely collapsing with exhaustion. The mark sparks sending stream of lights down his forearms. Isera tries again to control the mark, grunting in pain in her attempts.

 

Solas turns, walks to them and with the clench of his fist the mark stops sparking. Isera clutches her brother has he passes out from pain and exhaustion.

Solas kneels beside her. “He will wake in a few minutes.” He tells her. “I suspect you have questions.” He looks at them a gentle smile on his face.

 

Isera grips onto Banreas in fear and relief. “I know…” she whispers as she stares into his eyes. “You are Fen’harel. You are the Dread Wolf.” Her voice is hard and confidence, but she feels herself shaking.

His eyebrows raise in surprise. “Well done.” He gives her a sad smile. “I was Solas first, Fen’harel came later. An insult that I took as a badge of pride. The Dread Wolf inspired hope in my friends and fear in my enemies…” He gives a slight chuckle. “Not unlike the Inquisitor, I suppose.” He glances down at Banreas.

 

Isera shakes her head. “The Dalish…they were wrong.” She softly cries. “The tales of you are wrong. Solas, you are a hero.” Isera says.

He looks at with pain. “Those are fragments to give me more credit than I ever deserved.”

 

Isera tries to ignore the feeling of betrayal in her heart. “If you had just told me…” She whispers. If she is honest with herself, she doesn’t know how she would have reacted to him revealing his true identity to her. She doesn’t know if she would have believed him.

He looks down, eyes full of pain and sorrow. “Then you would carry the same burden I do.”

 

“I want to… _ma ghilana, vhenan.”_ Isera cries as she grabs his wrist. Her children—their children flash before her eyes as she refuses to let go of his gauntlet. 

He looks into her eyes. “I wish it could, _vhenan_.” He whispers as he wraps his free hand over hers.

 

Banreas groans, shifting in the lap of his sister. He looks up at them still dazed. He pulls himself onto his kneels. “What happened?” he asks as he stares down at the mark. It is stable, for now.

“Solas is the Dread Wolf, brother.” She whispers as she pulls her hand away from Solas, linking it with her brothers. She blinks back the tears.

 

Banreas looks at Solas in confusion. Solas confirms what Isera told him and begins to describe his world and his role in it. He is the one that created the Veil, locking away the false gods, and destroying the elves as he knew them. His new goal was to remove the Veil and to return things to what was.

Solas stands, walking away from the twins.

 

Banreas glances at Isera, his eyes are drooping with exhaustion and annoyance. “Of course, you had children with Fen’harel.” He sharply remarks with sarcasm. He brushes the dirt off of his hands.

Isera shrieks and out of instinct slaps Banreas in the back of the head.  

 

Solas whips around his eyes wide. “ _What_? Children?” Isera can read his face—shock, fear, concern…happiness? 

Isera stares at him with wide-eyed. She can hear her heartbeat in her ears. Her hands are cold and skin is hot with fear and anxiety. “Y-yes.” She murmurs out. He wordlessly stares at her. “I tried to find you…to tell you…” She whispers as she pulls herself to her feet her body is shaking with every movement.

 

The mirror behind him ripples and a figure steps out. Isera cranes her head to look past Solas not expecting another visitor. _Is he planning on killing us tonight and brought reinforcements?_ Isera thinks.

 

The figure saunters closer. “It has been too long since I have seen you both.” The voice is sweet.

Isera gasps as she stares into the blue-golden eyes of their--“ _Mother_?” Banreas looks at her. Their mother looks years younger than he remembers.

Eludysia smiles. “Hello, my son.” She stops walking, a few steps in front Solas.

 

Isera remembers her mother a small woman, wise beyond her years. When Isera left her in Rivain Eludysia was older, hunched over from years of studying tomes. Her hands were soft and boney from years of grinding herbs. Her curly, kinky hair had been turning gray at the temples—she used to joke that the gray strands were knowledge that were filling the strands of her hair.

The woman before her stands tall with a statuesque frame, shoulder pulled back with pride, dark, curly hair falling past her shoulders to her lower back. Her blue-golden eyes sparkling with knowledge and glee. Adorn on her head is an enchanted dragon’s skull.

 

Solas steps to the side. His head bent slightly, guarded at her approach.

_What?_ There is a chorus of confusion from Solas, Isera, and Banreas.

 

Eludysia continues smiles enjoying the attention and confusion of her presence. She turns toward Solas. “You have always been prideful, Dread Wolf. So arrogant that you did not sense the old blood flowing through their veins.” She teases with the information he did not uncover.

Solas scowls.

 

Isera shakes her head. “Old blood? You are lying.” Isera accuses her mother. “That is not possible. I would remember. _We_ would remember.” She looks at Banreas, who is still on his knees and weak is just as confused as her.

Eludysia sighs as she looks at Isera with pain. “You were five when the Veil was ripping our world apart.” She begins to explain. “I took us into a deep slumber as the Veil began to come. Your memory is fragmented.” Eludysia looks at Solas.

 

Isera shakes her head in denial. “If what you are saying is true, then Banreas would be a mage and we would be immortal.” She challenges Eludysia, trying to reason and logic.

Eludysia frowns. “ _You_ are immortal. You are still connected to the Fade, Isera,” she states, then frowning. “Part of your power is locked behind the Veil.” She hums. “It would have been better if you had been the one to bare the mark. ‘Twas never meant for a mortal.”

 

Eludysia looks towards Banreas. “Your lack of magical ability and immortality is my fault, my son.” She claims. “Banreas, you were not blessed with the same gift as your sister. I was injured and dying. I did not possess…” her voice breaks. “…The energy that it to protects us during our slumber—I’m sorry.”

Eludysia sighs before glaring at the Dread Wolf. “Did you not share with her the ability she has? Or were you too daft to make that connection as well?” Eludysia accuses him.

 

Solas pulls back, staring at Eludysia with interest. “She’s an _i've'an'amelan_ , a protector of the Fade?” Solas asks in surprise and disbelief. “That is impossible. They…did not survive.” He pauses. “I concluded that the separation between the two worlds caused their mind’s to collapse. They were integrity more a part of the Fade, arguably, than most.”

Eludysia shrugs at him. “The ones who did going to _uthenera_ did survive, Dread Wolf.” She scoffs. “Isera is untrained, of course. Their father was the best of them. He died trying to stop the horror _you_ caused.” She continuous to glare at him still jaded from the memory.  “If you just waited—asked for help…” She sighs shaking her head at the memory.

 

Solas bows his head at the memory attached to the accusation.

Eludysia looks around, recomposing herself. “I predicted we would need as many _i've'an'amelan_ when we would wake to restore what once was.” Eludysia informs Solas before looking at Isera. “Surely, your memories have slowly been coming back since interacting with the circlet?” Eludysia points to it, sitting on top of Isera’s head.

 

“How do you know about that?” Isera asks, fiddling with the circlet. Isera does not want to believe her.  

Eludysia laughs, her hands setting on her hips as she cocks her head to the side. “Child, how do you think the Inquisition agent’s found it? It was mine. I am a high priestess to Mythal.”

 

Isera blinks before covering her face with her hands. She is overwhelmed with discovering that the father of her children is Fen’harel, her mother is apparently a high priest for Mythal, and they are _elvhen—_ one of the ancients.

Eludysia turns away from Solas, approaches her children with arms open and smile on her face. “Children, I want you to come with us.” Eludysia asks. “You are one of us. You need to help.”

 

Solas reacts negatively, his eyes narrow and grimacing at the idea, but does not say anything. He silently fumes as he watches Eludysia.

Banreas project a boisterous laugh at the obscure idea. “I am not one of _you_.” He declares, his voice weak. “ _This_ is my world. There are other ways to restore what was lost, but not…not _that._ ” Banreas offers through gritted teeth. Isera can see the mark throbbing. Time is running out.

 

Isera shakes her head, declining the offer. “Your plan to restore _your_ world could effectively kill my children and I will not leave my children.” Isera announces.

 

Eludysia frowns, eyebrows raising in surprise unaware of the recent offspring. “You…had children?” She sounds confused and hurt. Eludysia sighs before nodding in understanding, but there is a glimmer of disappointment in her eyes.

Solas sighs with force. “This is my fight.” He declares. “You should be worried about your Inquisition. You halted a qunari forces. With luck, you will have a few years of peace.” He begins to explain his role in Inquisition and impact that resulted in the qunari thinking that the Inquisition was working for him.

 

“Do you want to know how I discovered the qunari plot? The plot I disrupted by leading them to your doorstep? My spies in the Inquisition tripped over their spies in the Inquisition. The elven guard who intercepted the servant with the Gatlok barrel? Mine.”

“And you now control all of the eluvian?” Banreas asks filled with impatience.

“Yes. Do you remember Briala from Halamshiral? She controlled them for a time. The qunari stumbled upon this area independently.” Solas tells them.

 

Isera recalls the offer for Briala of the elven fortress in the Dales. Suddenly, Isera feels thankful that she accepted that offer when she did.

Banreas lifts his arm. “And this anchor? It is getting worse.” Banreas asks as the mark begins oozing magic.

 

Solas frowns. “I know, my friend.” Solas whispers, his voice full of dread. “And we are running out of time.”

The mark begins to flare send bolts of magic out and up his arm. Banreas grunts as he is dragged along the ground by the mark.  “The mark was never meant for a mortal and will eventually kill you. Drawing you here gave me the change to save you…at least for now.” Solas leans down to him. Isera stands back, watching them.

 

“Solas, _var lath ver suledin, ma vehnan_!” Isera calls, repeating again what she said earlier. as she rushes towards him, latching onto his arm. Solas looks down in pain and sorrow, but does not answer.

Banreas cries out in pain as the mark begins to react again. Solas’s eyes glow as the mark and Banreas’ hand begin to disappear piece by piece as the Fade reabsorbs the magic.

 

Solas steps closer to Isera, his hand brushing hair out of her face. “My love…” he whispers as he leans in to kiss her. “I am sorry.” He leans his head onto her forehead as she begins silently crying.

Solas tries to pulls away from her, but Isera fights him at first. “ _They_ need you.” She whispers as he gives her one more sorrowful, regretful glance. He still does not answer her.

 

She reluctantly releases his arm as he walks away. He does not look back. He waits by the mirror, his shoulder pulled back and stiff, as he waits Eludysia to join him.

Eludysia looks at her children the palms of her hands open to them. “I am proud of you, both. You’ve done the People proud.” She smiles as she turns to join Solas at the eluvian.

 

Isera watches they into the eluvian. Her heart feels like it is being ripped from her chest as the mirror fades to gray and inactive. She controls the impulse to try to follow them.

\---

Banreas called an end to the Inquisition that night. He dropped the ridiculously large text onto the ground before leaving the room. The act cause quite a stir among the nobility. Isera quickly navigates to Briala, who is standing away from the discourse.

Briala eyes her with surprise. “We must meet, sooner than expected.” Isera looks towards her before glancing back at the court. Briala smiles knowingly as she turns to depart.  

 

The Inquisition members had returned to Skyhold and immediately began downsize despite the lateness of their arrival.

Isera is holding Sora, who is asleep on her chest. Veira is still awake as Isera leads them back to the clinic. She is exhausted. The clinic is empty when she arrives. Isera locks the clinic door before turning to head upstairs. She spots aged books on her potion desk that are not hers and nothing the Inquisition has within its walls. 

Isera stares at the books with suspicion before pulling Veira. “Come, Veira.” Isera urges. She helps her daughter up the steps. Her heart is pounding in her chest as she recalls the eluvian in the prayer room.

 

“ _Vehnan…”_

Isera freezes as she stares at Solas from the second step of her on top of stairs. He is standing in her quarters in his simple beige, cotton shirt and green pants that he used to wear. He looks afraid and unsure, unlike before where he dawned glittering armor fitting of Fen’harel. He is Solas here.

He glances down, almost ashamed. His hands fidget nervously. “I had to see them…” He whispers. He does not know if he should be here. Would she attack him?

Isera nods. She is unsure of what to do. She is scared as much as he is. Her fear is that he will take them from her.

 

Isera takes a deep breath, ignoring the fear that makes her insecure and slowly makes her way over to him. “This is Veira.” She tells him as she pulls the toddler forward to greet him.

 

“Hello…” his voice is soft as he kneels to see her better.

Veira’s auburn hair is short and messy from the trip back to Skyhold. Her shirt is stain from the treats she had during the trip. Isera hadn’t bothered changing them in the rush to leave the Winter Palace. Veira glances up at her mother before pointing at him. “ _Daede?”_ she asks.

 

Solas his eyes wide in surprise as he glances up to Isera. He hesitates to answer.

“Yes, _ma vehnan._ _Daede._ ” Isera confirms as she lets go of Veira’s hand.

 

Solas opens his arms to her and Veira rushes into his arms. Isera had told them stories of their father. The elven apostate who came to help the Inquisition. The man who helped save their Uncle. The man who was so passionate about the elven and their history that he would tell them stories one day. 

Solas picks up Veira who begins playing with his cheeks, babbling in her own language. “And what is her name?” He asks motioning to Sora. He hesitantly steps closer to them.

 

“Sora.” Isera smiles. “She’s like you. She likes to sleep a lot.” Isera jokes as she turns to sit on the bed. She motions him to sit next to her with Veira. She looks at him. “I tried to find you. To tell you. I would never keep them from you…” She whispers as tears fall down her face.

She never thought she would see him again, let alone see him with their children. He is finally meeting them. Her heart is painfully full--she loves him so much.

 

“I know, _vhenan._ ” He replies as tears fall from his eyes. He holds Veira close. He wraps his other arm around Isera. “I know.” He kisses her temple before leaning his head against hers.

Isera enjoys feeling him next to her once more, his musky scent and sound of his breathing. “I won’t stop you from seeing them. Not even now.” She tells him.

 

And she wouldn’t. Isera grew up without her father and she wants their girls to know him. 

They sit against the headboard of the bed with their sleeping children as the moon rises. Solas moves to lay Veira in the bed. Isera follows him, placing Sora down. Both toddlers are in a deep sleep.

 

Solas turns to her, reaching for her. “I must go.” He tells her. As he wraps his arms around her shoulders. Isera can feel the stress radiating from his body.

Isera nods as she wipes the tears onto his sleeves. “Be careful,” she whispers. He pauses, grabbing her hand.

 

“For them. I will try.” He transforms into a small black bird with blue eyes and flies out of the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! I hoped you like this story! I have an idea for a sequel, if y’all are interested in! Here is the summary and snippet of what I’m think of:
> 
> Summary:   
> With the Inquisition now disbanded, Isera sets her goals on stopping Solas by showing him a different way to change the world. The former Inquisitor, Banreas, has taken a smaller role to defeat Solas, if necessary, with little interest in other political affairs. Isera, with new found political influence, is using her power to collate elven associates who seek to better the elves without destroying the world. But will they be successful?
> 
> Snippet:
> 
> It has been over two years since her discovery of Solas’s true identity. Isera sent ravens to every Dalish Clan she could remember. Leliana gave her contacts of elven associates and Varric said he “knew of people” that could be helpful. Of those elven members within the Inquisition, if they hadn’t already disappeared, Isera called upon them to come with her. Almost all of them agreed. 
> 
> Briala met her at the entrance of the Citadelle du Corbeau, the old fortress that housed the Empress’s troops during the height of the civil war in the Exalted Plains. While the Veil is not torn here, it is weak. 
> 
> “We are waiting on the contacts.” Isera informs the Marquise as they sit on their harts at the gate. 
> 
> Briala turns to look at her. “Do you know who it is?”
> 
> Isera nods. “I know of one. She gave up everything to discover the old ways. And the other is a formidable warrior with strange abilities, I hear. Associates of the Viscount in Kirkwall.”

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are appreciated!


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